Jewels
by Emily Bones
Summary: This is not a love story. It is about possessions and being possessed. The difference between city dreams and city lights. Where pleasure and money are the same. Guns are work tools, sex is a job and salvation is a dream. This is not a love story. But you'll fool yourself into believing it anyway. UP FOR ADOPTION
1. Orange

**I do not own Twilight characters. Just my own plot.**

**So I am trying a Mafiaward, but a little differently than normal. I always wondered what it would be like if Bella was a prostitute and Edward at the top of the Mafia pyramid. So this wondered into my mind. Its also a bit of a song fic: **_**The A Team**_** by Ed Sheeran. Brilliant song, you guys should check it out. **

**Warning: if you don't like drug taking, violence, sex (con and non/con) this isn't for you. Just for the record, I won't be writing explicit rape, I'll be alluding to it. You have been warned.**

**Anyway, enjoy the story!**

_Orange_

I remember when I was little and the teacher asked everyone in the class what they wanted to be. Boys said astronauts and racers while girls said princesses and journalists. But when it was my turn, when the teacher turned to me with her doughy face and the other children stared at me, to see what Grotty Bella had to say, I said something different.

"A bird," I said, splaying out my arms to mimic wings, "So I can fly far away and never come back."

Everyone sniggered and the teacher told me off for making fun of the question. Whenever I came near the other children after that, they would flap their arms and squawk. I didn't care though, because I knew that one day, it would come true. That God would listen and turn me into a bird, so I could fly away, away from the other children and the teacher and Mom and Phil.

But as I dance in front of a man with small piggy eyes, a large red sweating face which was sucking on a long thick cigar like it was a pacifier, I think to myself: well that plan went down to shit.

Behind the cigar the rubbery mouth pulled up into a large yellowing smile, crooked teeth on full show. His eyes followed the way my body moved, taking in the expanse of smooth exposed skin. I could see the sweat pool under his arms. I didn't have to fight a grimace. I'd done this too many times to find it repulsive anymore. Nah, that's a lie, I still find it repulsive. I'm just used to it now.

"C'mere sugar," he grunted out, fat sausage hands reaching out to me. I swayed towards him, straddling his business trousered legs. His hands went to my waist and pulled me forward, so I could feel the soft fabric of his silk shirt and the cold ivory buttons against the skin of my stomach and chest. This was the point where I switched Off. Went to my Happy Place. The things I did next were not felt by me. Later I will have a hard time remembering what I did.

Afterwards, he stuffed a roll of several hundred-dollar bills into my hand, smiling a grin that reminded me of the Cheshire Cat in the Disney cartoon. "You were…excellent," he leered, as I gathered the silk black robe around my naked frame, "I'll ask for you next time, Sapphire."

I gave him an appreciative grin, hoping I won't be on shift when he next comes. "Thank you for coming to _Cipro_, I hope you will return soon." I glanced at the clock above the door and repressed the relief welling in my stomach. It was nearly 2, so there was no point going out onto the Floor again.

I left the room smelling of sweat and expensive cologne and tiptoed down the corridor the floor laid down with a thick purple carpet, the walls decorated with delicate gold leaf inlaid into the purple wall paper, depicting trees with caged birds hanging in the branches. The sconces shed a soft warm light on the cherry wood tables, crystal vases holding crimson roses. I walked past the mahogany doors with their red and green lights above them. Green for vacant, red for occupied, with little gold plaques in-laid into the wood, saying things like: The Blue Room, The Violet Room, The Green Room etc. etc. I wasn't interested in these; I was interested in the door saying "Authorised Personnel Only" at the very end. I slipped past the heavy wood, lined with three inches of steel.

Behind that door, the illusion of casual wealth disappears. My bare feet slap against cold concrete, artificial fluorescent light making my eyes burn. Steel doors line this corridor, names stamped across them in black: Amber, Amethyst, Jade, Pearl, Ruby, a whole corridor full of names. Again, it was only the door at the very end I was interested in: the Rec room.

Pushing through it I saw Amber, Ruby and Topaz, curled in on the couches on the right hand side, watching _Ugly Betty_ on the box of a TV. Topaz looked up, and smiled, warm brown eyes meeting mine, "Phire! You're back."

"End of another working day. Thank holy fuck," my fingers wrapped around an orange from one of the plastic bowls on the kitchen island, which I began to peel as quickly as I could. I wanted the taste of him out of me, away. Taking one slice, I stuffed it into my mouth, the tart sweetness burst across my mouth, chasing away the foul aftertaste of expensive cigar, "You guys enjoying your night off?"

The others ignored me, too engrossed in Betty's ugly mug to talk to me. Topaz nodded, wrapping the large cardigan from her Old Days tightly around herself, "Its always nice not to get dolled up, y'know what I'm sayin'?" Topaz is definitely from down south somewhere. Her accent speaks of NASCAR and hot summer days. We all come from somewhere but we never tell where. And if we do, it's a lie. Most of what we know about each other is a lie. It's just the way things are.

"I know exactly what you are saying," I said, voice slightly muffled around a mouth full of orange. I swallowed it and said, "Can't wait to get this slap off."

Topaz smiled and her attention was drawn back to the TV again. I finished my orange and was about to go to my room when the door opposite the one I just came out of banged open. Cold blast of air hit me in a harsh blast, the smell of petrol and cooking fat barraged up my nostrils. Three men in identical black suits and one struggling girl in dirty clothes came through the door. The girl was holding on tightly to a blue rucksack, probably containing all of her worldly possessions. I guessed she was about 16 and a Runaway. I'd arrived exactly like that. Takes one to know one.

"Let me go! Please!" she was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks, stained black. The Suits shoved her onto the floor, so she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around the bag as if it would save her. She trembled sputtering out, "I promise I won't tell anyone I swear I just wanted a ride I'll do anything I have $60 I just wanna go home it was stupid to run away-"

She was babbling now, as Dmitri scanned the room, eyes falling on me, "Sapphire, where's Padrona?"

"She's probably out on the Floor. This the replacement?' I asked, gesturing to the trembling girl.

"For Emerald? Yeah," Dmitri frowned at the girl, before glancing back to me, "Since Padrona's not here, can you show her around? I fucking hate crying women."

Putting my peel into the bin I dusted my hands, "Alright, I'll tell Padrona when she comes through that we've got a new one. I've got it."

Dmitri nodded and gave one last pitiless look at the girl on the floor, the new Emerald.

"I'll deal with her," I said again, wishing they would leave. I hated the Suits. Heartless motherfuckers that made my skin crawl when I was with them.

They all nodded, robotic, and brushed through the metal door, leaving in another blast of air.

The others were still watching the TV while Emerald was still trembling, crying and muttering to herself as she rocked on the balls of her feet. I crouched down and tapped her shoulder, "Get up kid."

She ignored me, still rocking to and fro, to and fro. "I said get up."

Her head snapped up to me, and her eyes pleaded. Despite the tearstains and the blotchy face, she was kind of pretty. Large innocent brown eyes, similarly coloured long straight hair and clear skin. No wonder she was picked. We were The A Team, which requires the best. "Please, I want to get out. Help me!"

"Not happening kid." If I helped her in that way, I'd lose a limb. I quite like my limbs so I want to keep them, "Get up."

"I don't want to, " she whispered. She continued to cry, getting louder and louder.

"Whoever is crying: shut the fuck up, I can't hear the TV," Amber snapped, glancing angrily back at me.

I huffed, just wanting to go to bed, and grabbed the tops of Emerald's arms, hoisting her up. "First rule of _Cipro_: no crying. No one likes a crybaby," I told her, getting the silken sleeve of my robe and wiped her tears away, "Nut up or shut up, got it?"

She sniffled and nodded, clutching her bag closer, "My name is Bree. What's yours?"

Placing my hands firmly on her shoulders I looked her square in the eyes, "Rule number 2: No real names. That girl you were, called Bree? She doesn't exist anymore. You're now Emerald, but you can shorten it if you want. I'm Sapphire, that's Topaz, Ruby and Amber. You're rooming with me, since the old Emerald…" I paused, wondering if I should tell her what had happened to Emmie, my roommate since I came here, "she's gone."

New Emerald nodded, eyes shifting around the room. "This room," I said spreading out my arms to indicate the entire room, "is the Rec Room. There's a fridge, cupboards, an oven and all kitchen utensils you could ever use. We're each given our own shelf and cupboard for food. You take anything that is not yours and you will quickly become very unpopular. Understand me so far?"

Emerald nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. I knew that look. "The only way out is that door," I said, pointing to the one she had just arrived out of, "It is at least 4 inches thick. To get past it, you need a code, which changes every second day. Only Padrona and Dmitri know it, and we have stopped trying to fuck it out of them. It simply doesn't work. If you try to escape, they remove your toenails and fingernails, one by one. Try it again and you die behind the lumber sheds. Your body will be hacked to pieces and thrown to the Boss's pet pit bulls. You would have never existed. Do you understand?"

More tears slipped down her cheeks but she nodded, "I understand."

For a moment, I cupped her cheek, looking her straight in the eyes. "I know you are scared, and you want to go home," I stroked my thumb over her delicate cheekbone, "but you are too young, too pretty to die. Hang on tight, learn how to survive and you'll be ok."

She didn't seem convinced as I dropped my hand, using it to gesture towards the TV and the couches, "TV and couches, pretty self explanatory." I pointed towards the rota on the cork notice board, next to the cards and pictures from ex-coworkers. "Your name will soon be added to the rota, so you know which nights you are working and which you are not. Usually 7 to 12 girls will be working a night, depending on how busy the Floor is."

Her face flushed, as she peered at the large timetable. Her eyes widened and she turned to me, "You were working."

"No shit, Sherlock," I said, looking at the rota myself, "And I won't be working until tomorrow." I looked back at her and asked her the big question, "You lost your cherry yet?"

She jumped, her face blossoming red in a way that reminded me of how I used to do that. But I'm no longer a blushing virgin anymore.

"…yes," she said quietly, eyes shining, "last year with my ex."

"Too much information," I told her, "But that does mean there won't be an virgin auction for you. You'll be dancing at first though, until you are deemed good enough to actually dance personally for clients before they're asking you to fuck them."

"I can't do that."

"You can do that and you will do that. C'mon, I'll show you the dance studio," I put an arm around her shoulders and lead her away, feeling her small body trembling underneath the baggy, too large clothes. I pushed against the door next to the kitchen area, coming into a room with floor to ceiling mirrors and several large black boxes of sound equipment. "This is where you work through your dance routine, get it to perfection. If you have trouble, Padrona is an excellent dance teacher. The better you dance, the more you are paid."

"Right…" she said, suppressing a yawn.

"You must be shattered. Come, I'll show you to your room. I'll show you the Floor tomorrow. Do you need anything to eat?"

Another shake of the head. She was becoming numb, pretending it was all happening to somebody else. It was a good tactic, but it would only last her a couple of days at most.

"C'mon, we'll get you showered and into bed in no time," I led her away, through the Rec room and down the hall, until we reached a door proclaiming Sapphire and Emerald. Inside were two steal beds, bolted to the concrete floor. The bed on the right was made with the standard grey blanket and white pillow but on my bed on the left was a colourful blanket I had managed to salvage all those years ago. Made by my grandmother before she died, it was the only bright thing in the room. On the bedside cabinet was my hairbrush, a couple of tattered, stolen library books and a lamp. By the foot of both beds was a small wooden box. A bar of flurescent light lit up the place on our entrance, draining the colour from Emerald's face. "Your bed is on the left and you use the box at the end of the bed to keep your clothes and stuff. Once you start earning you can buy stuff to decorate the place with." Not like it would make it look any better anyway.

"Oh, ok," she said, her voice quiet and weak.

"If you have a towel and shampoo, get them out so you can wash. If you don't, you can borrow mine," Emerald looked pleadingly at me and I sighed, went to my box and pulled out the spare towel and a few sachets of shampoo I'd saved from magazines, "Here. The showers are just across the hall. Wash yourself up quick, then come right back here."

She nodded and scurried away, leaving her rucksack behind. I sighed and trudged back to the Floor, my head beginning to pound. I passed through the corridor of private rooms and made it back into the smoky red room that was the Floor. Silver poles glimmered in the low light, as sofas were swept and the tables made clear of sticky wine and beer spillages by the cleaners. Padrona was behind the bar, counting today's earnings. A large woman, who was stylishly beautiful, a streak of white amongst the deep fire of her fixed hair, she always reminded me of the caterpillar in _Alice in Wonderland_, always sucking on a cigarette at the corner of her mouth.

She looked up and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth, "Ah! _Cara mio,_ you worked well tonight. Was Big Shot pleased?"

"Very," I said, handing her the hefty tip I had received from him, a waft of heavy but expensive perfume waving over me, "D's brought a new girl. She's showering at the minute"

Padrona's eyes sparkled with interest, "Indeed, _molto bene_. I was wondering when Emerald was going to be replaced. Does she look any good?"

"Very pretty," I confirmed, rubbing my temples, "Scared shitless of course, but she has potential."

" _Bene, bene_," Padrona murmured to herself, her brow creased in focus, "You make sure the girl gets a good night's rest. I want to inspect her in her best form tomorrow, see what we are working with."

"Of course Padrona," I replied, moving away from her already.

"And well done, _cara mio_. Big Shot is a rich client and you managed to reel him in rather nicely. Speaking of which," she put down the dollar bills and locked her blue-green eyes onto me, "Associates of the Boss are being invited here tomorrow. The Boss asked for the best employee of _Cipro _to entertain him. That is you, _cara mio. _Are you willing to work the shift?"

Internally I groaned but I put on a bright smile and nodded, "Of course, of course, I'll be more than happy to."

Padrona grinned, patting my shoulder, "I expect big things from you Sapphire," Padrona's eyes glittered with greed, and I knew she was thinking about how her retirement was piling up. That's all Padrona thought about: money and sex. Sex and money. They were linked in this place; one did not come without the other.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," I replied, forcing my eyes to stay open against the stinging smoke, "Emerald will be ready as well."

"Sleep well, _cara mio,_" Padrona's smooth voice was the last thing I heard as I left the Floor, treading back through the Private Rooms and back to the sleeping quarters. Emerald was sitting stiffly on her bed, her wet hair dripping onto the grey scratchy blanket.

"I want to go home," she whimpered, clutching the towel around herself, "I want to go home."

I forced my heart back down my throat and walked briskly towards her, "C'mon, where are your pyjamas?"

She nodded towards the crumpled pile next to her, water or tears dripping down her cheeks. I picked up the t-shirt and pulled it over her head. She cooperated by pushing her arms through the holes, wet hair soaking into the dull material. "Now put these on. I won't look," I said, handing her the jogging pants. I turned away and while she was dressing, I pulled on my father's old T-shirt, faded and worn with age. You could still make out _Spartan Warriors_ in red on the front. It had been my pyjamas for as long as I could remember.

Once we were both dressed, I came towards her saying, "C'mon into bed now. You need a good night's sleep, alright?" H

She mumbled, "It has been two weeks since I have slept in a bed…" But she slipped between the greying sheets and sank in on her self, her body so small, it hardly made a lump under the blanket. "You ok?"

She shook her head and I brushed the hair out of her eyes, "First night is always the hardest. Just rest easy ok? Worry about everything in the morning."

She turned over, her back away from me and curled in on herself, shrinking even further in size.

I turned away from her and walked to the light switch, flicking it off with a snap of my wrist. The room was pitch black, and I groped my way back to my bed. I settled under the blankets and exhausted, collapsed onto the pillow.

But for two hours, I heard the quiet panting sobs of the occupant next to me.

Welcome to _Cipro_, where women become your wildest fantasies. Where we will dance and sing for you, warm your bed. We will give you the love that your wives and fiancés refuse you. We will make you feel pleasure. We are your precious gems.

My name is Sapphire, but I was once called Bella Swan. I ran away at the age of 17 and was tricked into the car of a very rich man. He brought me here and this is where I'll stay, until my flesh hangs from my bones and I am no longer a pretty precious thing. At least I thought so. Until a man with the green eyes and the crooked smile came to shatter my world.

This is my story.

**Should I continue? Please comment and shtuff, I'd appreciate it!**

**Translations from Italian: **

_**Cipro = **_**Cyprus. I chose this name for the brothel because Cyprus was supposedly the birthplace of Aphrodite, otherwise known as Venus, goddess of love**

_**Padrona**_** = Mistress**

_**Cara mio**_** = My dear**

**Cool beans, hope to hear from ya!**

**Emily**

**P.S I'm not Italian and I don't know any Italian, so if I'm wrong in my translations please tell me!**


	2. Scotch

**Wow! I never expected such a great response! Thank you for all the favourites, alerts and reviews! I'm kinda still shocked.**

**Here's a few review responses:**

**Sammy: Thank you for your corrections! They helped me a lot**

**your little star: I can see where you are coming from, but as you're about to find out, Bella's been in this position for a very long time. She tried fighting before, with rather dire consequences. She now just wants to get through all of this with as little pain as possible. I can't promise you that she will get more 'fighty' but she still shows strength, just in different ways.**

**Just to be clear here are what each and every character are in this fic:**

**Pearl = Victoria**

**Topaz = Angela**

**Jade = Tanya**

**Ruby = Jessica**

**Amber = Lauren**

**Amethyst = Heidi**

**Sapphire = Bella**

**Emerald = Bree**

**Diamond = Leah**

**Opal = Gianna**

**Aquamarine = Kate**

**Garnet = Irina**

**So thank you again, and enjoy**

_Scotch_

I always dream of running through New York City, streaking past the steaming streets and the burning neon lights. I sprint through Central Park and thunder through the East Side, never stopping until I reach the Brooklyn Bridge. I stand on the edge, hair whipping around me as I look down, down, down to the greeny-grey murky depths of the Hudson River. And then I jump. Sometimes I fly, sometimes I just fall. But I always wake up, just as I either start to swoop low over the river or my face is about to smack into it. Afterwards, my stomach always churned with either excitement or fear, my brain whirling while trying to find what it all meant. I'm still looking for that answer, sure that its just brushing my fingertips.

As I wake up this time, I can hear the other girls outside, hurrying towards showers before our noon meeting. I sat up, glancing across at Emerald, who was curled under her blankets in a foetal position. I swung my legs out of bed and told her, "Time to get up kid, we have a meeting at 1."

She mumbled something like, "Gimme 5 more minutes Luke."

"I'm not Luke. Get up," I said, heading over to my box to pull out underwear, a pair of ragged jeans and a crop top.

She jolted upwards, stared at the room for a moment before promptly bursting into tears.

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time, and went over to sit down next to her.

I gingerly put an arm around her and stroked her hair back, revealing her blotchy tear stained face.

"I thought it was all a dream," she whimpered, "Some strange nightmare. I thought I would wake up home. But-but-"

She sobbed again clutching at my shirt. I ran my fingers through the strands of her hair and said in a calm reasonable voice, "For the love of all things that are holy, you have _got _to stop crying." She hiccupped and snuffled as I said, "Tears aren't going to make this all go away. Some people will see it as a weakness and will make your life hell, trust me. Put your poker face on and act like you don't give a damn."

"That's easy for you to say," she said accusingly, still sniffling.

"Well, you either take it or get fucked over by the other hookers, " I said brusquely, getting up from her bed, "now get up and get dressed, you have 30 minutes before the meeting starts in the Rec Room. You better not be late."

I dressed quickly, and heard rustles behind me that indicated she was dressing too. I was out the door and heading over to the Rec Room in good time. A few of the other girls were already around the kitchen island, drinking instant coffee and tucking into bowls of plain cornflakes. Topaz grinned at me, and patted the seat next to her, "How's the newbie?" Amber asked, watching me sit down and pull a bowl and the box of cereal towards me.

"There's a new girl?" Jade asked, tossing her strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder

"Shocked but fine," I said vaguely, "She's the new Emerald."

"Oh…didn't think it would take so long," Aquamarine said, clutching her coffee close to her body.

"Yeah, she was a stray, a runaway," I said, grabbing the jug of coffee and pouring myself a cup, "Dmitri must have picked her up somewhere."

"Like you," Amethyst said, nodding towards me.

"Mhmm," I said, digging into the cereal, "Lucky girl."

Suddenly the door opened and Emerald walked in, pulling an over sized cardigan around herself, as if it would protect her. Her face was still flushed from crying but otherwise she appeared fine. She looked at all of us before saying a timid, "hello?"

A chorus of hello's echoed back and Topaz said, "Well hey sugar, why dontcha come and sit down here? Breakfast is always on the house, even if it tastes like shit."

Emerald nodded shyly, coming over to perch on the seat on the other side of Topaz. Topaz picked up another bowl from the centre of the table and took the box of cereal from me, "Tuck in, you must be starvin'."

"Thank you," she whispered, "I don't know your name…?"

"Oh! Silly me, I'm Topaz. I 'll introduce you to everyone else. You already know Sapphire," she said, gesturing to me, "And next to her is Pearl." She began to point at each individual, "Jade, Ruby, Amber, Amethyst, Diamond, Opal, Aquamarine and Garnet."

"There is no way in hell she is going to remember all of that," I said, spooning another mouthful of cereal into my mouth.

"Don't worry sugar, you'll learn'em all soon enough," Topaz said, waving her hand non-committedly, "If you're lost, just shout some random gemstone and you'll get it in the end." She spread out her arms and said with a large grin, "Welcome to the A Team!"

Suddenly, Padrona swept into the room, her presence demanding attention. "Good Morning, _caras mias_," she uttered, in that loud ostentatious voice of hers.

"Good morning, Padrona," we chorused back.

She glided around the table and came towards Emerald, who sat like a rabbit in car headlights, frozen and terrified. Padrona cupped Emerald's cheeks and eyed her critically. "She has pretty eyes," Padrona said, fingering a lock of hair, "And her hair will look better once it has a proper haircut. With the right products we can clear her skin. Stand up girl."

Emerald stumbled to her feet and allowed Padrona to take her by the shoulders and pull her to the centre of the floor. "Turn around slowly, _tesoruccio_."

Trembling, she turned on the spot. Padrona grabbed the baggy cardigan Emerald was wearing, wrenching it from her shoulders. "Strip," she told her, tossing the cardigan aside. Emerald yelped and few of the others sniggered, Emerald's face was flushing red, as she stood in only shabby jogging pants and a crop top. "Including underwear?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and shame.

"Including underwear," Padrona confirmed, a cruel little smile playing on her lips, "Trust me, _tesoruccio_, I've seen it all. Get it off."

'Do not cry,' I sent the mental thought like a radio wave to Emerald, 'Whatever you do, _do not cry_.'

It seemed to have worked. Emerald clenched her trembling jaw and with as much dignity as she could muster, removed her clothes.

"That's better," Padrona said, when Emerald was finally naked. She walked around Emerald like a shark circling their prey, "Nicely formed breasts… slim waist…good hips…an overall slender figure…I can work with this." Padrona picked up the cardigan and threw it to Emerald, "From now on you're on a strict diet, I'll give you the plan this afternoon. You will also get a haircut, and some good hair and skin products. You are responsible for keeping your body looking good, we do not want our standards slipping here at _Cipro_. You're beautification will take most of the afternoon and you won't be working tonight, but tomorrow I'll start teaching you dances for your first night tomorrow."

Emerald looked stunned again but quickly nodded, her eyes wide. Padrona suddenly beamed and enveloped her in a hug, "Aww, my little Emerald, you are going to be wonderful. Its always good to have another addition to our wonderful family. All of you," her eyes swept around us, "are my daughters. And everyone treats me as their mother." She pulled back and grinned at Emerald, who wasn't looking so scared anymore, "Now, make yourself presentable, I'm taking you to town. The rest…" she glanced up at us, as Emerald began to pull on her clothes, "Practice your dances. Sapphire, I want a new dance for the Boss' guests tonight."

"Yes Padrona," we all replied dully.

"See you all later, _mias caras_," Padrona said, taking Emerald by the arm and heading for the door.

She was gone once she had pressed in the code and a blast of cold air whipped through the room again.

"I swear Emerald was about to shit her pants," Pearl said, her remark echoed by more snickers.

"Shut up Pearl," I said brusquely, "quit talking out of your ass."

Pearl's eyes narrowed and she spat back, "Ooh, Padrona's little pet getting her panty's in a twist over a newbie." She looked around the table, "Any bets on how long this one will last?"

"Pearl, have I mentioned that you are a bitch recently?" I said, clearing away my bowl, "Leave the kid alone. Once upon a time, you were like her. Give her a break."

"Your mouth is moving, I wonder why?" Pearl said sarcastically, "Go suck Padrona's dick, Sapphire. I'm not interested in what you have to say."

"This is a waste of my time," I said tiredly, "just leave the girl alone, alright?"

Ignoring the cascade of retorts, I went to get my dancing things, before heading for the studio. Some of those girls wouldn't think twice before slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Some of them wouldn't even think once. It was a given in a place like this. If you're too successful at pleasing the punters, girls got jealous. That's why it's useful to be a light sleeper…and to keep a kitchen knife under your pillow. Just in case.

Behind the door leading to the smoky stage, I fiddled with the hem of my deep blue baby-doll dress, lined with black lace. Silk stockings were hooked around my thighs, legs ending in patent leather fuck me heels. "Sapphire? Are you ready?"

Paul glanced up at me, all wired up with a microphone to communicate with the rest of backstage. I nodded, "As I'll ever be."

"Go get'em tiger," he said, gesturing to the stage entrance, as _Army of Me_ by Bjork began to play over the stage speakers. I swung out, swaying to the sound of the music, letting it take me. If there was one part of the job I was close to liking, it was this part. The dancing. Wrapping myself in the music, I forget the normal worries I have, for a little while anyway.

The music drowned out the catcalls, wolf-whistles and the 'c'mere darlin's. If I could tell these clients anything, _anything_, I would tell them this: I hate you. I fucking hate your guts. When I dance for you, when I fuck you, I want nothing more than to smash your beer bottle into your head and grind your face into the broken glass. The more you come and demand my attention, the more disgusted I become of you. Because all I see are a bunch of women-hating alpha pigs, guzzling yourselves on booze, drugs, food and sex until you become fat slobs who have to pay a woman to fuck you. That's what I would say, if I didn't want my brain to become soup by a baseball bat.

I swung down the catwalk like stage, towards the group of smart neat businessmen, with Padrona standing next to their table. I recognised the Boss: a medium built man, with Italian olive skin and long black hair tied back into a small ponytail. In _Cipro,_ since everyone here used only nicknames for the sake of secrecy, he was The Boss. To everyone else, he was Aro Volturi, successful businessman with a multi-billion dollar empire. He had contacts and allies that spanned the globe, his wholesome squeaky-clean business covered pharmaceuticals, real estate, clothing, cosmetics, even food, anything that could make money. Then there's the not so squeaky side. This side, the side I'm on. I knew that behind that suit and warm smile was a mind that had no trouble in killing people like us. As soon as you become useless to him, his men will take you up behind the warehouses in the urban wasteland of New York and shoot you. Its as sure as how normal people expect to grow old, move to Florida and die in their bungalow with their cats.

Behind him stand a mass entourage of bodyguards, generally giving an air of if-you-fuck-with-the-Boss-you-fuck-with-all-of-us. Next to him sit his brothers, Marcus (known as Lux) and Caius (AKA Nox) who are just as lethal, then there is the man I do not recognise. One more man sat there, casually swilling his scotch as he watched me with an intrigued stare. His metallic coloured hair gleamed red, gold and brown in the strobe lights, his eyes glimmered dark green. His suit was expensive and well tailored, hinting at a body that was taken care of at countless gyms. He suddenly smiled at me, a crooked grin that nearly made me stumble mid dance. I saved myself though, calming my hammering heart. No one had ever smiled like that at me before. They'd leered at me but never actually smiled with that degree of sincerity.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Focus on dancing. Listen to the music. Breathe.

But the song was coming to an end.

Padrona was gesturing for me to come down, her eyes glittering with excitement. I stepped down gracefully from the stage, swaying towards the table, as Amber came on stage as the next song played. I put on a smile, a smile that promised things as Padrona said, "Gentlemen, this is Sapphire. Sapphire has to be one of our most talented girls. Sapphire, you know the Boss and his brothers."

I tipped my head in due respect and said, "It's a pleasure see you again, sir."

He often came to this place, never to have a good time, but always to get into good books with associates. He smiled and said, "Its good to see you are still with us, Sapphire. This is Lion. He's very interested in meeting you."

The threat was implicit but I couldn't miss it. I fuck this up; my ass is on the line. I nodded and turned to the man called Lion smiling coyly, "Lion, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"The feeling his mutual," Lion said, running his eyes up and down my body.

"I'm Sapphire. Do you want to come with me? I'll take care of you."

Lion glanced at the Boss and he chuckled, "You sure know how to entertain your guests."

The Boss smiled and nodded, "Just remember our agreement. And enjoy yourself."

I proffered my hand, keeping the coquettish grin on my face, making him think that I wanted this. He grinned back and took my hand. I pulled him with me, winding our way through the tables, passing the other whores and their clients.

I pushed through the door leading to the Rooms, pushing the door that said _The Blue Room_. It's exactly like it sounds on the tin. A room decorated with rich blue fabrics and furniture, echoing the colour of the gemstone I was named after. I pulled the man towards the bed and set him down. His suave demeanour from earlier was now gone. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even. "You ok baby?" I asked, tracing the lapel of his suit jacket, gently pushing him back so he lay on the luxurious bedspread.

"Listen Sapphire, you don't have to do this," Lion said, as I crawled up his body, kissing the visible triangle of skin at his throat.

I sighed and continued to push his jacket from his shoulders. I was used to some men being nervous about this. They were mostly first timers, letting flimsy morals convince them it was the wrong thing to do. But a few kisses and whispered words had those morals crumbling faster than pastries. The word 'morals' was just that: a word. A word that weak men hide behind, to pretend they are something they are not. In the end, it doesn't matter what conventions a man is brought up with, if a girl in skimpy clothes walk in front of them, they still would fuck them.

"I want to do this," I said, my lips brushing his ear, pushing the buttons of his shirt through the holes, "Just like you do."

I ground my heat against his crotch and cold shock drenched me. There was no arousal hard and ready to greet me. I tried again and received another round of shock. Still wasn't there.

Don't panic. _Don't _panic. Its not rocket science. Figure it out. See what he likes. I trailed my lips down the exposed skin of his stomach, discovering I had been right: he did take care of his body. Nice change for once.

"That's the thing: you _don't_ want this," he cupped the back of my head and forced me to look up to his face, "I can tell; its in your eyes. I don't find sleeping with an unwilling woman a turn on."

He gently moved me to the side and sat up, shirt unbuttoned and his eyes filled with something I was not familiar with: pity.

"You can go, I'll tell them you were magnificent," he gestured for the door and repeated, "You can go."

He was sincere. And he wasn't a weak man. I sat there, too stunned to speak for a few minutes before finally saying, "I can't, they'll know."

He frowned and I continued to explain, "There's no CCTV cameras in the rooms, but there's plenty in the corridor. I go out, they see me and they know I haven't done my job. And then I get my fingers broken. I have to stay."

He swore under his breath and tugged on his hair. "…Alright, how long do you have stay for it to not be suspicious?"

"At least past midnight," I replied, my hooker façade completely vanished.

"Right…ok…you look cold, do you want to put something on?" his eyes were concerned as he looked at me.

My mind was starting to believe that this was a dream. In no way has a man ever showed me this sort of kindness, this sort of decency. I went to retrieve the black robes that were always a part of each room and pulled them on. I turned to look at him, to watch him button up his shirt. "Thank you," I finally said, the urge speak getting too strong, "Thank you for… stopping. No one has ever had the decency stopping before."

"You're welcome," he said, fully dressed now.

Not sure what else to say, I sat in one of the plush armchairs, curling in on myself again. We sat in silence for a long while before he spoke, "So what's your real name? Mine's Edward Cullen. No need for the whole Lion bullshit."

"Oh…Camilla," I said, shrugging at the question that surprisingly was asked often.

"Bullshit. Your real name please," he said, going over to a drinks cabinet and pouring himself a whiskey. He proffered the bottle to me but I shook my head, trying to wrap my head around the question. "Its not a trick question. You're mother didn't call you Sapphire, not unless she wanted this kind of life for you. So what's your real name? I won't tell anyone."

"Uh…you promise?" I asked, making absolutely sure.

"I promise, spill," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

"…Bella, I was once called Bella. Last name Swan." There I said it. Those words hadn't passed my lips in years. They felt weird, foreign tasting. They weren't my names anymore.

He smiled, swilling his glass, "Bella Swan. Pretty name for a pretty girl."

I'm not sure if he was joking. I gave him a tight smile and said nothing. "So how old are you Bella?" he asked.

"Twenty-two," I said.

"And for how long have you been _here_ Bella?"

"Seventeen."

He whistled through his teeth and took another drink, "You've been here a long time then?"

"Uh huh."

"Why? What started it all?" he was frowning now, as if figuring out a particularly difficult puzzle.

"Actually, can I have one of those." I pointed at the drink in his hand and he chuckled before pouring a glass and handing it to me.

I took it and gulped it down, hardly believing what was happening, "This is one weird night," I mused, placing the iced glass against my temple, "No one has ever wanted to know me before."

"You haven't met many decent people then," he said, sitting down on the bed, "Unless its too painful, can you please tell me why?"

"…My parents were control freaks. I ran away at seventeen and got into the car of a rich man," I smiled bitterly and took another drink, before realising the glass was empty. I proffered the glass and he refilled it, so I could take another long drink of cold fire.

"So…you don't like using prostitutes for fun," I stated, staring at him over the rim of my glass, "So you must have been dragged here by my employer…let me guess. You're a competitor, a competitor that the Boss must be pretty scared about otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to try and sweet talk you with booze and me. Am I correct?"

"Indeed you are. Very perceptive," he said, coming closer to sit on the armchair.

I shrugged, "You'd be amazed about how many men talk in their sleep. And I'm good at reading people. So what's the deal? Drugs? Money laundering? Sex? What do you sell?"

He paused and then said, "I suppose its bad manners of me to expect you to trust me and then for me not to trust you…drugs mostly, along with real estate and pharmaceuticals. No sex slavery. My father doesn't believe in that sort of thing."

"Ah, family business. How come I haven't heard of you before?"

"We were originally based in Chicago, but we've decided to try our luck in New York," he said it carefully, green eyes flickering around the room and back again.

"Right, well…welcome to New York," I said, raising my glass to him.

He smiled and chinked his glass against mine, "Thank you, Bella."

"You are welcome," I said drily, "hopefully you will have more luck than I did."

"You can't get out?" he asked, he waved his free hand around the room, "all of this? Surely there's something…"

"There is a way out," I said, placing the glass against my temple again, "I have to buy out my contract, which is hideously expensive: $750,000. Even if I worked a thousand nights, I would never be able to make that kind of money. So here I stay until I become old and wrinkly and ugly. They'll then dispose of me in the right way."

Something like anger flashed across his features, "This is barbaric."

I laughed, hollow and meaningless, "Well it ain't the fucking American Dream, that's for sure." And I pointed at him, as whispers of anger brushed through my gut, "and its people like you who make it a reality."

I expected him to deny it, but he nodded, a despondent look on his face, "I'm no saint. I've…done things I regret."

"Like what?"

"I've killed people. Tortured them. I distribute drugs that make people destroy themselves. I'm supposed to be Catholic for fuck sake," he swigged down another gulp of whiskey.

"You're religious?"

"Supposed to be, mostly for appearances though. I pay a lot of lip service to God," he smiled bitterly. He then frowned for a minute, tracing the rim of his glass. There was a long silence and I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. "I can't wait for my night off," I sighed, "I'm owed one, big time."

"What do you do, in your free time?" he asked.

"Sleep, mostly," I said, "You don't get enough of it sometimes around here. Sometimes I go out with the other girls to shop or spend some time in a café down the road with a book."

"You're allowed out?" there was a surprised town to his voice.

"You see this?" I proffered the skin of my wrist, where a small white scar was marked, "I got a tracker chip inserted into my wrist, first day I was here. I was told that if I tried to remove it, I could lose the use of my hand. When we go out we have to have permission from Padrona, an escort and a curfew. So yes, we're allowed out, but not without shackles." Another bitter smile, "Still, its better than nothing."

He frowned deeply at my words and also leaned back in his chair, "Indeed...so…you like reading then?"

I knew he was tyring to change the rather dire subject, so I followed his lead, "Yup, classics mostly: the Bronte sisters, Austen, bit of Shakespeare and other bits and pieces."

"Wouldn't put you for being an Austen fan," he said, the smile from earlier returning to his face.

"Ah, I'm a sucker for romances, doomed or otherwise," I said, smiling with ease this time, "English was my favourite subject at school."

"You enjoyed school?"

"School was alright. I enjoyed the classes if the teachers were good, but I wasn't exactly Miss Popular," I shuddered at the thought of being tripped up in corridors and sneered at in the lunch hall. "But I bet you were Mr Jock in your school days. Lady killer too."

He chuckled, his laughter smooth and easy, "You could say that. High school was the most fun I ever had. I partied hard, screwed all the girls I could, had fast cars and a 4.0 average."

"Oh, you were one of _those_ people," I said, nodding in understanding.

He cocked his head onto one side in confusion, "What kind of person?"

I shrugged and smiled, "Any favourite subject at school?"

"I didn't really have a favourite subject at school. I enjoyed music and I play the piano, but I saw school as just a period of time I spent before taking up the family business," he stared into the depths of his drink, as if it would give him unknown answers, "I should have savoured it all…"

"You don't appear to be a man who regrets things like that," I said, following the lines of his face. Definitely not a man who regrets things.

"You'd be surprised," he said in a drily bored voice.

The conversation carried on from there, wending from favourite movies to favourite memories. I laughed, frowned, smiled, listened and was listened to, well past midnight. I learned that his family was Irish, moved to Chicago back during the Potato Famines in the early 20th century. They made their substantial fortunes through speakeasies and trafficking. Despite all this, Edward had to be one of the most amiable men I had ever met. It was nice to talk to someone, without having to lie. And that someone actually listens. Fuck, even showing actual care. For the first time in years, I relaxed, properly. Without the fear of being caught. Inside of myself, something clicked into place, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Whatever it was, it filled in the hair line cracks that I knew laced through me, threatening to break me apart into shards.

It was 2 in the morning when Edward glanced at his watch and his brow creased, "That time already? Jesus, I have to go."

He finished his drink in one mouthful, before getting up and coming towards me. I stood up as well and he took my hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Bella. Maybe I'll see you some time soon?"

"If you want," I said, glancing around the room, "I'm always going to be here."

He suddenly cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, "You are the bravest and most beautiful girl I have ever met."

My face heated and my eyes flickered away. "Uhm…thank you?"

He laughed that easy velvet chuckle and his hand dropped away, "Be safe Bella Swan. I'll keep your secrets."

"And I'll keep yours," I replied. I fidgeted on the spot before saying, "Thank you for…you know."

"You're welcome," he made for the door but took one look backwards, "Goodbye."

I gave a short wave and murmured, "Bye."

He looked like he was about to say something else but he just grinned his crooked smile and was out the door.

I wrapped my arms around my waist and sat heavily on the bed. A secret smile slashed across my lips and my fingers reached up to catch it.

For the first time in years, a man does not repulse me.

**So what do you think? You like Edward? Do you think he will come back? **

**Again, I'm not Italian, so if I've made anymore mistakes please correct me!**

**Please leave a comment and continue to fave and alert! I love to read all your comments and try to reply to as many as I can.**

**Until next time! **

**Emily**

**xo**


	3. Apple Tart

**Hey, I'm back! Thank you for all the favourites and alerts and reviews! I'll try to reply to all of them. Hope you enjoy this one!**

_Apple Tart_

Just down the road from _Cipro _was a cafe that did the best coffee in New York. It was called _La __Petite __Reine _and a woman called Adelaide Giraud owned it. It wasn't too big and it wasn't too small, with clean dark wood tables crammed into all the space there was, with pastries and colourful cakes on display behind the glass counter. The dark orange walls was decorated with 1930s French adverts and the tables are set with small vases of carnations. Adelaide Giraud was a wizened old lady with a strong French accent, with glasses on a long bead chain, who would bake all the cakes under the glass counter herself. She knew my favourite was apple tart, so she always had a slice waiting for me every Sunday. "Ah! _Ma __cherie! _Eet eez so good to see you again!" She'd kiss me twice on each cheek and grin her denture smile. She always smelled of soap and powdered sugar, her white hair a cloud around her head. "Gilly! Get Marie 'er coffee. You know 'ow to make eet."

She employed the help of a Scottish girl as a waitress, Gillian, otherwise known as Gilly. Gilly was an undergraduate of Columbia University, studying English literature. She worked weekends to try and scrape by in the tiny apartment she lived in with two other flatmates. She had bright blue eyes and curls of long hair, that she dyed a cerulean blue. She'd push up her wayfarer glasses and grin, and say in a thick Scottish accent, "A'right, you sit yourself down and Ah'll git yoor coffee. Ah've got a _brulliant_ book fir you this week…"

I'll be settled down within seconds, a slice of apple tart on a clean white porcelain plate with a delicate fork and a cup and saucer filled with caramel coloured coffee.

I smiled and pulled out last week's book out of my tattered messenger bag: _Madame __Bovary_ by Gustave Flaubert. Gilly plonked herself down on the seat opposite me. "A'right, what did ya think of _Bovary?_" she asked, her bright eyes glittering.

I frowned, staring at the front cover of said book, "not sure I liked her that much. She was selfish to the point of stupidity. I felt sorry for the doctor. He was an idiot but didn't deserve that."

Gilly nodded in agreement, "Ah didnae like 'er much either. Though Ah kinda felt sorry fir her too. She was disillusioned aboot eveythin' and it was hardly 'er fault. Anyway," she produced another book from underneath the table. "Next up, _Room __with __a __View_ by E M Forster. Based in Italy und England, it's a happy love story that has an entire chapter dedicated to Forster's homosexual fantasies." She slapped the book down onto the table-top before, leading back a triumphant grin on her face, " 'n' hows that for a slice o' awesomeness?"

I love Gilly's accent sometimes.

"I didn't know Forster was gay?" I asked, picking up the dog eared book and gazing at the front cover.

"Aye, bent as a three pound note," she said with all seriousness, "he describes one o' the characters as 'Michaelangelesque'. Name me one male straight author tha' will describe a male hero as 'Michaelangelesque'?"

I snorted and nodded in agreement, "too true. So anyway, how are things with you?"

Gilly sighed and shrugged, "same old, same old, Ah suppose. Mind you, there is this _goooorgeous_man who has just moved into the flat opposite oors. Get this: he's a police officer. And Ah've seen him shirtless when he answered the door in nuttin' but shorts when he was working out." Gilly practically melted in front of me, a goofy smile on her face. "Fit boy is _fit_."

I laughed and said, "well why don't you ask him out?"

"Well lets face it: he's either gay or already taken. Even if he's neither, he's more likely to go for Marcy 'fuck me' Donner. She's all big tits and big arse. And wha' have Ah got? An unhealthy obsession with poets that have been dead for more than a 100 years." She sighed, shaking her head before snapped her gaze back to me, "anyway, 'nuff 'bout me. You seem cheerful today. Anythin' good happen recently to ye?"

I found myself blushing and looking away, "nothing out of the ordinary." Edward flashed in my mind and my blush deepened.

"Liar," she teased, "I bet five quid - no sorry - five bucks itsa man."

"No!" I said indignantly.

Gilly's teasing grin widened, "Is he gorgeous?"

"I- uh- well-" I spluttered, my cheeks seemingly on fire. Gilly seemed to always have a direct line to the embarrassed 17 year old in me.

"Well c'mon then, wha' does he look like?" Gilly scraped forward eagerly in her chair.

I scowled, "don't you have tables to clean?"

"Cheeky," she admonished, but she sounded like she really didn't mean it, "it's Sunday morning. The lunch rush doesn't start till eleven. And until then, this is _my_interrogation. So, what does he do? Ah bet it's sommat reeeaaally glamorous like...a pilot! Tell me he is a pilot! For BA, so through you Ah can get discounts on flights."

I rolled my eyes, realising she wasn't going to give in till I gave her something, "actually he's a real estate agent. I met him at work."

I think Gilly and Adelaide knew that I worked doing something unsavoury. They weren't sure what but they knew it probably wasn't legal. But they never said anything about it. And I never gave specifics. It worked for all.

Gilly raised her eyebrows, "oh?"

I shrugged and lied easily, "he was very handsome and very charming. Bit of a gentleman actually."

Gilly's eyes sparkled, "oh yeah? Like knight on a white horse?"

Interesting metaphor.

"Sort of. More like the dark stranger on a black horse."

"Ah, so like Rhett Butler? Sounds yummy! You gonna meet him again?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. Depends."

"On what? He sounds really nice, did ya ge' his number?"

I wish things were as simple as Gilly makes them out to be.

But they aren't.

"He's got other girls to run after. Better ones," I said the last sentence quietly and I picked up my coffee to hide the words from Gilly.

Gilly was about to reply when suddenly the door jangled and a couple of men entered. I nearly spilt my coffee when one of them was Edward. He seemed younger in the clear light of day, his bright copper hair gleaming in the lamps. He was dressed in black slacks, a blue shirt and black vest, looking far more relaxed here then he did in _Cipro._He saw me, smiled and wended his way through the tables. The other man was a dark skinned man, with spiked ebony hair and warm brown eyes. He seemed more reluctant to come forward, shifting his eyes from Edward to the door before finally falling into step behind him.

Gilly's eyes flickered between Edward and I, and mouthed to me, "is that him?"

I sat rooted to the spot, cold shock drenching my skin. After that night, I'd hoped that I would never have to see him again. Edward Cullen, although he had to be the most decent person I had met in years, was pushing at the boundaries of my fragile, volatile world. Too much pressure and this balance I had would crumble beneath my feet.

That and Stefan, my escort, is probably watching us right now.

Edward smiled as he approached, his hand reaching out towards me, "Bella! So good to see you again. How are you?"

I choked out an 'I'm fine' as Gilly's gaze snapped between Edward and me.

She got up and pulled out her pen and pad. She grinned her huge smile and said, "gentlemen, you wanna sit down? I can pool a table t'gether if you want."

"We're not staying," the dark skinned man replied shortly, tugging on Edward's arm, "In fact, we were just leaving." He stared pointedly at Edward and jerked his head towards the exit, "Weren't we Edward?"

Edward ignored him with an eye roll and Gilly sniggered. She sloped off towards Adelaide and began whispering in her frail ear, pointing to Edward with a bright glint in her eye. Adelaide bent her head towards Gilly and her face lit up with glee. They both peered at us from behind the glass counter, sniggering like school girls.

Some people are too intelligent sometimes.

"Friend of yours?" Edward asked, drawing my attention back to him.

That grin. God.

"Uh...sort of...not right now though," I said, flicking Gilly an annoyed look. She only seemed to laugh harder and hurried away to serve the family's hat had just entered with two crying children.

He snorted and said, "speaking of people who are not considering other people as friends: this is Jacob Black. Or just Jake."

I stuck out my hand to the guy named Jake, "hi Just Jake. I'm... Bella."

That's twice I've said my name in a week. Crazy times.

He gave me a tight smile and shook my hand briefly, "hi Bella. Edward we need to _go._"

Edward sighed through his nose and said, "chill the fuck out Jake. Just give me five minutes."

He sat in the chair Gilly had occupied and Jake huffed, "Call me when you quit being suicidal." He literally stomped out of _La __Petite __Reine_ and disappeared down the street.

I watched him go, one eyebrow cocked, "he seems tense."

He gave me an apologetic smile, shuffling forwards in his chair, "Jake's always like that. This is technically enemy territory so..."

He trailed off and looked uncomfortable for a minute, "why come then?" I asked, tracing the rim of my coffee cup.

"Because I wanted to see which cafe you were talking about," he said, glancing around the cafe, "nice place."

Shit.

Shit.

Please don't do this.

"Yeah, it's nice," I said, nodding slowly.

Something is stirring in my gut.

It's familiar and foreign at the same time.

Odd.

"This your latest book you're reading?" he asked, picking up _Room __with __a __View_.

"Yup," I muttered, putting down my coffee cup and folding my arms, as something close to anger bubbled inside of me.

Anger.

Haven't felt like that in a while.

I've forgotten how hot it feels.

"Hmm," he murmured, reading the back page, "I remember studying this in high school. I thought it was the dullest book in existence. No blood, guts or gore." He glanced up at me and grinned, "it'll be perfect for you."

Please, for the love of God, don't pretend like you know me.

The anger is different now.

It's more...fury like.

What the hell is going on with me?

"Huh," I muttered, a smile I didn't really mean tugging at my lips while I took my fork and slowly crumbled the apple tart.

"Are you ok?" he asked. I looked up to see him frowning with concern at me, placing the book back on the table again.

I breathed in deep, I breathed in so deep my lungs felt like bursting. "You shouldn't have come." The words were a rush but they hit home.

"Why?" Defensive. Aggressive. Why does he care?

"Because I'm property, that's why," I snapped right back, my hand curling into a fist around the fork, "and men don't covet other men's property. They either buy or rent other men's property." I snatched the book off the table and shoved it into my bag. "You shouldn't have come," I repeated. I took out my purse rifled thumbed out $20 and slapped it on the table, "Goodbye."

I picked up my bag and stormed out of the cafe before my eyes teared over. I heard Stefan follow me as I power walked down the street. But I didn't care.

I was furious.

Raging.

Fuming.

_La __Petite __Reine _was my place. _Mine._ It was the only place that wasn't contaminated. He had no _fucking_ right. No right at all.

I practically ran down the street, back to _Cipro, _ignoring the client entrance I marched around to the back. I flew down the Worker stairs, tripping into the door, slamming into the woodwork. I pressed my shaking thumb into the thumb reader and I let myself in. As soon as I was in, leaned heavily against the steel door and slid down, gasping for air.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" Pearl glared from the kitchen island, coffee mug in hand.

Battle armour on.

"You and your fucking ugly face," I retorted, while silently telling myself to get up. I pushed myself back up the door again and smoothed my hands through my hair, massaging my aching temples for a moment.

I ignored the stares. Everyone is there, in the common area. They're not used to seeing me like this. Sapphire is always cool and collected.

I was used to feeling numb.

Cold.

But now...

The anger feels so _hot_.

I take a minute to stitch my sanity back together, carefully pushing my hair off my face and shakily walking towards the rooms. I make myself go slowly to my room, instead of running like I wanted to.

When I was just to my door, I heard Padrona call out. "_Cara __mia!"_

I turn to the sound of her voice, when I really wanted to just go into my room and sleep, "Yes Padrona?" Padrona glided down the hall, her arms outstretched as her glittering bead eyes scrutinised me from behind her blood red glasses. She envelops me in a hug reeking of expensive perfume and takes me face in old manicured hands glittering with rings.

"Stefan tells me you saw a man in your little excursion? Hmmm?"

Fucking Stefan. I'm going to have his balls.

"Some guy trying to hit on me," I lied, shrugging easily, "told him to fuck off and left."

Padrona doesn't look convinced though.

"Apparently it was Lion? Was it Lion? The man might have paid an enormous amount for your services but you know the rules. No client-"

"-can contact employees outside of _Cipro _without your permission, I know," I assured her, "don't worry, it was just some guy who looked a lot like him."

Padrona stared long and hard into my gaze, her sharp blue eyes never yielding. I stared right back, forcing my eyes to look into hers.

Never falter.

Never fail.

She finally smiles and presses her withered lips against my forehead, "Oh Sapphire, how could I ever doubt you?"

I repress my sigh of relief and smile up at her as she pulls away, "you have my absolute loyalty, Padrona."

She smiled, finally releasing me, "of course I do _cara __mia,_of course I do."

She whisked down the hall again and I slumped into my room. I made it to the bed and collapsed onto the covers, fully clothed, bag still on my shoulder. My eyes fluttered shut and I breathed the musty smell of the room.

"'Phire? Are you ok?" I hear Emerald sleepily ask. Emerald has been adjusting to life here. The adjustment process includes a lot of sleeping, even though she's not doing proper work. As far as I know, Padrona is waiting for Em's birthday next week when she'll turn eighteen before putting her to proper use.

"Go back to sleep, Em," I mumble, kicking off my shoes and shrugging off my bag. I pull out _Room __with __a __View_. I start on the first page, forcefully pushing my mind to read so I could block it all out. Edward's face, Gilly's face, Padrona's face, everyone. I just wanted them all to go away.

God, I am so fucked up.

*A*T*

Gripping the smooth cold pole, I spin in front of my many admirers, coy smile on my lips as I dance with old practiced moves. There were the usual big shot businessmen and secretive senators and creepy celebrities that throng the crowded tables and the other girls working the night. I'm naked from the waist up, my bikini top in the hands of some grubby man with a thin moustache.

Creep.

This was going to be an ordinary night, like any other.

Padrona was going to signal me in another hour and introduce me to another lonely man. I would take him by the hand or crook my finger towards him and lead him away. Afterwards, he'll either pay me or Padrona, depending if he's paying by cash or card.

I go back on the Floor, depending on how late it is, and it starts all over again.

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

After this dance, I head to backstage, grabbing a water bottle from the table groaning with them and take a swig. "Sapphire!" one of the Suits calls me, "PAdrona's got a client for you."

I groan and out down the water bottle, shaking my hair out, "Already?"

The Suit only grinned and jerked his thumb to the floor. I sigh, pull on a spare bikini top and plaster on a smile. I walk out and wend my way to the ticket box placed near the entrance, where I normally meet clients.

What I see makes my brain freeze.

He came back.

He _fucking_ came back!

Padrona's grinning like the cat got the canary and gestures to him, "Sapphire, you and Lion meet again!"

He grins like the bastard he is and takes my limp hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles, his green eyes boring into mine, "Sapphire, a pleasure."

**There we go! Did you like it? Its not very long, I know but this was a chance for you guys to meet some OCs of mine. D'you like'em? Gilly is based off someone I know, so she was very funny to write. I was sounding out her accent to myself as I was writing and got some very odd looks from my family…**

**Bella is quite a complex character, I think. Even I'm just starting to realize just how complex she really is. And does anyone feel sorry for Edward? **

**Until next time folks!**

**Bones**

**xx**


	4. Ketchup

**Sorry for the wait! Everything is going crazy atm. Christmas soon though.**

**Thank you for all the alerts, favourites and reviews. They are very awesome to see, so thank you!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

_Ketchup_

'Keep it together!' I screamed at myself, forcing my mouth into a pleasantly surprised grin. "Lion, what a pleasant surprise," I said, fighting the urge to tear my hands from his grip.

I glanced at Padrona and she smiled widely, nodding in approval. Having a regular client was a sure way of creating more income. There is even the rare incidence when clients actually buy out the entire contract, freeing the prostitute from her bonds to the Boss. But that was very, very, _very _rare.

Edward only smiled and pulled me into his chest, pressing his lips against my ear. "That's it, good girl, keep up the pretences," he whispered it gently, his hot breath tickling my cheek, "Now giggle."

I found myself obeying him, deliriously giggling and placing my hand on his chest, looking up at him with a girly euphoric smile on my face, while the pit of my stomach twisted in nausea. Everything seemed heightened at that moment. Sharp. I could feel the expensive silk of his shirt, the harsh calluses of his hands, the stench of Padrona's smoke, the heady vapours of strong liquor, the chink of ice against glass, the laughter of patrons and the quiet titters of their companions. The world seemed to spin and I hardly heard or saw Edward ask and pay to have me for the night.

He led me away, his nose nudging at the flesh of my neck and kissing my skin, flickering his tongue over my pulse. It was a knee jerk reaction to respond, laughing and placing my hands over his, pressing my lips against his hairline. He growled playfully as we made it into _The Blue Room_. As soon as we made it pass the door, he was off of me, straightening his shirt and smoothing back his hair, "Sorry about that," he said politely, flashing me a grin, "I had to act like that or they'd be suspicious."

I scowled at him and then did a round of sarcastic clapping, "Very well done. You'd make an excellent whore."

He burst out in laughter, the sound seemed completely foreign in this room. It was raucous, boyish even and shot straight through me. I shook myself and placed my hands on my hips, "Its not funny! Padrona's one shrewd bitch. She'll know…"

"She doesn't. Trust me," he said, making a beeline for the scotch cabinet, pulling out two glasses and filling them up just like the last time.

"What are you doing here? I thought you hated places like this," I asked, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Usually," he said casually, passing me a drink, "But…since I've been charmed by one of the many beautiful courtesans, I cannot help myself. Alas! Tis a curse to be wooed by one such as you!"

"Very funny," I said testily, clutching the crystal glass so hard, I'm surprised it didn't shatter, "You've got to stop doing this."

"Why?"

"Because…you can't alright, its too dangerous."

"You don't think I know that?" He said, before knocking back his drink, "Aro's not going to complain – by visiting you he'll think he's got me in his back pocket. Padrona won't care because it only means more money if you have a regular customer. We keep up pretences when we need to and they won't suspect a thing." He settled heavily into one of the armchairs, scotch bottle right beside him and gave me another charming grin, "I like your blue friend by the way. She's got…spunk." He swilled his drink

"Stay away from Gilly and Adelaide," I warned him, "They don't know. They have no part in all of this."

"I was wondering why you freaked out when I arrived," he refilled his glass, eying me up and down, "Don't you want to sit down?"

I ignored him, beginning to tap one stilletoed foot against the ground. The anger was back again, feeling just as hot as it did before. "You shouldn't have come. It was too close this morning. Stefan recognised you."

"Then I'll be more careful. I won't go to your precious little café anymore," Edward shrugged as if it was nothing. He fished through the inside of his jacket, pulling out a cigarette pack. He gestured to the pack, "Can I…?"

I huffed irritably; annoyed that he wasn't getting the point, "You can do whatever you damn well want."

He smirked and placed a cigarette between his lips and pulled out a silver, expensive looking lighter. "You want one?"

I shook my head jerkily, "Not allowed to smoke."

He shrugged again and the flame flared. He hovered it at the end of the white cylinder. Once it was lit, the end glowed gently in the dark gloom of the room. Smoke curled upwards in gentle spirals as he inhaled. "You look cold…again."

I stomped towards the dressing gown on the back of the door and threw it on. "You are…ugh!" I hissed at him, throwing myself onto an armchair and glowering at him, "Won't you listen?"

"No." Another drag of his cigarette, the tip Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm your client and I get to do whatever I want with you," the tip of his cigarette glowed again and a bluish cloud of smoke plumed upwards like some weird flower, "and give me some credit. I think you and I both know that I am no fool."

I opened my mouth to reply and then realised just how right he was. I curled my fists and sat down, placing the glass on the table beside me. "Why?" I asked it quietly, my voice barely a hush, "why me?"

"Because I like you," he said, giving me a wide grin, "you have a certain style, I have to admit."

"What the fuck that's supposed to mean?" I asked, cocking my eyebrow at him.

"Can we just settle for the fact that I like you?" He said exasperatedly, tapping his ash into the crystal ashtray beside him.

I clenched my jaw and nodded stiffly. How can he make me this annoyed? Not even Pearl could make me even slightly irritated, and she has talent for getting under people's skin. But Edward…he just crawls right under me and clings there, like some wart you can never get rid of.

"And do you?"

"What?"

"Do you like me?"

I stared at him for a long moment, and he stared right back, an intensity that seemed coat my skin. The question took me by surprise and it took me a while to think up of an answer. "Well…you're irritating me too much at the moment for me to actually like you."

He laughed again, takes a drag and then a swig of his drink, "you're funny."

Can I punch him?

"Just call me a comedian," I said drily, suddenly too tired to actually feel angry with him anymore. "So how is this going to work? You just gonna turn up whenever you feel like it? I have other clients you know, you can't monopolise me."

Did I imagine it, or did Edward's eyes just darken?

"Don't worry. I won't keep you from your other _clients_." The way he said the last word made my skin prickle, but I ignored it. "Once or twice a week maybe. Whenever I feel like it."

The arrogance in that tone left me speechless. Though…I am talking to one of the richest men in New York. And an Irish man to boot. I suppose its expected.

"So… that's it? You're hiring out a hooker without actually fucking her?" I couldn't help but snort after that saying. The whole thing was ridiculous. "Wow, you have problems."

He sighed, rolled his eyes and muttered, "I know. Can we move on?" Within the next breath he changed the subject abruptly, "So you're friend, the one with the blue hair, she nice to you?"

I blinked, trying to work out what he was talking about. "Uhh…yeah, of course she is. Can't understand what she's saying half the time, but she's nice."

"Scottish?"

"Yeah…so?"

"My _au pair_ was Scottish. Our family has a thing for hiring people with a Celtic background. Even my parents insist the girls we marry are either Irish or Scottish," he shakes his head, "stupid really."

"I can give you her number. I think she liked you," I said sarcastically; the idea of Edward dating Gilly was like trying to mix peaches with onions.

"Nah, I prefer girls that have their own natural hair colour," he gave me an appreciative look and I snorted again.

"Whatever lover boy," I said, taking sip of my drink, "so do you date a lot? Apart from visiting hookers you don't fuck?"

He smirked, "I just got out of a relationship actually. She was starting to get too attached."

"How long did you date her?"

"2 years."

"2 years and you dumped her because she was getting too attached? Ouch, poor girl."

"What? I only dated her to keep the family off my back."

"She was a nice Irish girl then?"

"I wouldn't call her 'nice'. Great sex though."

I sniggered, "you're horrible."

"Aren't I just?" he gave me a curious look, "this sounds like a stupid question – but did you date before -" he waved the hand holding his cigarette around the room, "-this?"

"I was in love once," I said nonchalantly, looking at him over the rim of my glass.

He raised his eyebrows, "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I said, nodding slowly, "he had blonde hair and blue eyes. And he really liked to row."

"Ok…so what was his name?"

"Ryan Gosling."

He snickered, relaxed and tapped his ash away. "Ryan Gosling, huh?"

"_The Notebook _had me in tears."

"God, again with the romances?"

"What! Nothing wrong with good romantic movies."

He stared at me like I was crazy. I stared back at him challenging, "What? Just because I am a whore does not mean I can't enjoy romance every once in a while."

"Huh…I'll remember that. And you're not a whore."

Anger sparked through my gut, "Oh yeah, what do you call selling yourself for sex?"

He leaned forwards, dropping his cigarette into the ashtray. His eyes locked on me, his face serious now, "I've known plenty of whores – they drive their father's Porsche and they throw themselves at me and my brothers without any shred of self-respect. _That's _a whore."

"Ok…sure sparky," I said, sounding only drily bored. I pushed my fingers through my tangled hair. I leaned down and unclasped my stilettoes, kicking them off. I rubbed my feet, massaging my thumbs along my instep. "I hate high heels. I think you should know about how much pain a girl goes through to impress men."

"My mother always makes that point," he bantered back, the tension dribbling away again, "she hates high heels as much as you do."

"Your mother and I should meet over coffee," I joked, changing my ministrations to the other foot.

"She does have a penchant for French pastries," he said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it.

"Does she cook?"

"Like a fucking pro. I keep telling her she should write a cookbook but she always says, 'I only cook for family, not for the whole damn nation.'"

I smile at the thought, "I bet she cooks the best Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners ever."

He grinned, inhaling more smoke, "You wouldn't believe."

The rest of that evening was spent talking again, the night getting later and later. It was again at 2:00 am that I slipped out the room, tossing a goodnight over my shoulder.

"See you next week," he replied, grinning his charming smile.

I smiled back and then slipped out the room, flying down the hallway to the back door again.

As soon as I passed that door, I knew something was wrong.

The screams were a good indicator for that.

I sprinted down the hall and yanked the Rec Room door open. Emerald was on the concrete whimpering and crying as the Suits surrounded her, like dark sentinels. She was naked, her hands over her head, fists tangled in her hair. Spots of blood sprinkled the greyish white concrete, looking like someone spilt ketchup. Padrona and Dmitri towered above her, looking at her with about us much warmth as one would look at cockroach.

"Aim for her stomach," Dmitri said it in a cold and quiet voice, his eyes gleaming with a dark menace that made my stomach turn. One of the Suits, retracted a foot and aimed a sharp kick at Emerald's belly. She howled, tears and phlegm covering her face, blood streaking her skin. "Stop! Stop! Please!" she wailed looking up at Padrona with soft pleading eyes, "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

I swallowed the scream that pushed at my throat and said in a shaky voice, "Whuh-What's she done?"

Padrona snapped her gaze upwards and grinned that awful smile that made me want to throttle her. Smoke curled around her head from the tip of her elegant cigarette holder as she said, "She abused her client and tried to escape. She is getting her just deserts, aren't you, _tesoruccio?_"

Emerald could only whimper, weeping against the cold floor. I glanced around and saw that I was the only other prostitute in the room. I looked down at Emerald, fists clenched at my sides.

_No emotions. Don't you dare show anything_._ Be cold. Like stone_.

But every time I blinked, I would see Edward's smile and it took everything in me not to break out screaming.

Licking my lips I said, "are you going to be long?"

Padrona gave me dismissive hand gesture, "_Pazienza, pazienza_, we'll be done in a minute. Go to your room, Sapphire. You've had another tiring night."

I had no choice but to leave. I gave Emerald one last look and tore myself from the thought of trying to help her now. I do that and I join her on the floor.

It took a lot of self control to walk calmly down the hall. Once I was in my room, I did not go to bed. I waited, sitting stiffly on my bed, eyes glued to the door.

It was hour before Emerald was shoved into the room. The door wasn't even closed when I was by her shivering, tiny frame with a blanket wrapped around her naked shoulders.

I knew how these beatings went.

They always aimed for places that could be easily covered up. Never the face. They never broke any bones – it would take too long for it to heal. It would mean a loss of a whore for a couple of months. Emerald will not be working the poles, but serving drinks until her bruises had healed.

I stroked Emerald's hair and let her cry into my dressing gown. I rubbed my hands up and down her back and felt her wince.

"Shh, its over now. Shh, its all over. You're ok. You're ok," I murmured into her hair, stroking it back.

"I-I juh-just thuh-thought…" she didn't finish the sentence before she was sobbing again, clutching close to my side, "it _hurts_."

I took a deep breath and kissed her temple, "I know it does. I've got painkillers in my box. But it's over now. Its all over. You just…don't do anything like that again. You hear me?"

She nodded, hiccupping against my skin.

I rocked her back and forth, on the floor of our cold, dank room.

You know that saying?

_Diamonds in the rough_.

Well this is how these precious gems get honed.

**Yeah…that was intense to write. I needed to put it in to show how nasty Bella's employers are. I think that is the first time I've ever wrote proper cruelty before. Please tell me what you think!**

**And some more Edward and Bella interaction. I love writing their bickering and bantering. They're kind of adorable.**

**As always please tell me what you think! And again, I don't know Italian, so correct me if I'm wrong in the little bits and pieces I put in here. **

**Till next time!**

**Bones**

**xx**

_**Pazienza **_**= Patience**


	5. Notebook

**This story****'****s name is being changed to ****'****Jewels****'**** as are all of the chapter names, simply because I think they fit better. **

**Anyway, if you have also been reading the _Bloody Fingerprints_ you****'****ll know I said I would only focus on that story****…****well I found that I actually worked better if I alternate between two stories. So I****'****ve chosen this one to work on as well as the other. Sorry for misleading you!**

**Thank you for all the alerts, favourites and reviews. They****'****re wonderful to see and I am very humbled that so many people like this story. Please keep reading!**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! This is done in third person instead of the normal first person you****'****ve all been used to. **

**Enjoy!**

**Warnings: Graphic violence. **

_Notebook_

Bella Swan would never admit this, but her one true hero in life had been her father: Charles Miles Swan, otherwise known as Charlie.

Police Chief of a small town in the blurry green state of Washington, he was a large man that towered over his bird like wife and even tinier 8 year old daughter. He smiled at everyone he met and was fair but firm in handling the small and cluttered police station where he worked. He loved his job - he liked to help people and he liked to think he made a difference in some small way in his town.

And he always told his daughter that: "Always look out for others," he said, while they quietly fished in the waters of the local river, "and maybe someday, they will look out for you."

He'd stroke one trout smelling, calloused, dirt smudged hand across the supple cheek of his shining eyed daughter and Bella would grin widely back with young crooked teeth.

At home, the small family were content with their scruffy yet clean house they had lived in since Bella was born. Mrs Swan had a certain talent for making a house seem clean and cosy all at the same time. It was she who, when heavily pregnant, had painted clouds and birds and hot air balloons onto the sky blue of the walls in Bella's nursery. Although she was barely 19, she took to motherhood like a duck to water. From the first kick she felt in her lower abdomen, Renee Sylvia Swan nee Walker knew that she would love this child until her last breath, come hell or high water.

Despite this, this sort of love did not aid in improving her talent for cooking. She tried her best to create a homemade meal every night for when her husband came home. Over the steaming remains of lasagne, Charlie and his daughter pretended to enjoy the lasagne and Renee would happily believe them. She was a wife to a handsome police chief and a mother to a beautiful daughter. Nothing could ruin that. Afterwards, while she had her nightly bath, Charlie and his daughter would quietly order a pizza and eat it in the back shed.

This was when Bella would pull out her scruffy notebook where she wrote her adventures and read them quietly to her father who always listened. He thought it was amazing that a daughter of his could not only read books like they were air but could try to produce her own. And such an imagination! She talked of secret treasures and quests filled with dragons that live in ice caves, castles made of jet, women with flowing red hair wearing bright casings of silver armour. He always listened patiently, amongst the rusting gardener tools and the forgotten Christmas decorations as his daughter read with a tremulous voice and a trembling finger pressed hard against the line of words she had written from her corner in the playground. And whenever she finished, he would applaud her, smiling widely and ruffling her hair, "My Bella, the next Little Shakespeare!"

"You think so, dad?" 8 year old Bella gazed adoringly at her father, clutching her notebook tightly to her chest, "you really think so?"

He always leaned down and kissed her forehead, "you can be anything you want to be, Bella. You keep your head on straight and I'll be there for you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Forces out of Charlie Swan's control made sure that he never kept that promise.

James Talbot, a drifter with undiagnosed religious schizophrenia, opened fire on the town's only diner, killing 4 people and wounding 6 more. Chief of Police Charles Miles Swan was the first on the scene and he tried to wrestle James' gun from his sweaty dirty fingers.

He didn't see the dirty switchblade that James pulled from his belt. The blade first sliced through Charlie's belly, bursting his stomach. The second was plunged to cleave under his rib cage, puncturing his lungs. The final stab entered his abdomen again dicing his intestines with a vicious twist.

James Talbot was caught and arrested on charges for murder and assault.

Charlie Swan died at 1:04 pm on the floor of _Harry's Diner._

All that Bella Swan remembers of that day is being called out of her math class by the school secretary. At first, she was ecstatic: she hated math. She was brought to the school office and was brought a cup of juice and a bag of _Hershey Kisses_. She was made to wait for her mother in the school office, her small legs swinging on the edge of her seat, as she sucked on her apple and mango juice.

'Grownups are strange,' she thought to herself, as she watched the secretary give her weird looks across her desk.

Her mother arrived a few minutes later. She knelt down next to her daughter and took her small, warm, damp hands in her own. She looked her daughter in the eyes and wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Renee tucked a piece of escaping hair behind Bella's ear and wipes an ink smudge from her cheek. Bella cocked her head onto one side, "Mommy? What's going on?"

Renee didn't want to do this. She was still trying to make sense of it herself. She still expected her husband to walk in with that big grin of his and laugh like it had all been a joke. One massive prank.

"Daddy's...gone away, Bella," she tried carefully, her eyes feeling tight, "Daddy's gone on holiday and he's...not coming back. He's with the angels now."

Bella knew that her mother was trying to tell her something very important. She was speaking quietly and her eyes looked all hard. But the words jumbled and scrambled in her brain and she couldn't make them link.

She could only think to nod, wide eyes blinking as Renee took her by the hand and led her away.

Bella didn't like the funeral. Everyone wore black and spoke in hushed tones all the time. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother her cry. Her father was trapped in a long wooden box, asleep next to the white roses that filled the church. It was like a play to her; everyone had lines to recite, stage directions to follow. She expected everyone to relax afterwards and for her father to rise out of the coffin, stepping down to come home with her.

But instead, she had to watch, as her fathers colleagues carried the box to the ground. It was only when they started shovelling dirt on top of him did Bella break out screaming. She begged the pall bearers to bring him up again, that there had been a terrible mistake. One of her uncles had to take her away, her mother standing silently by the slowly descending coffin.

Watching her husband being lowered into the bowels of the earth did something to Renee Swan.

It was like she died with him.

The moment she got home she crawled into her husbands clothes and fell asleep on his side of the bed. She didn't get up for three days.

Bella had to fend for herself in those three days. She intuitively knew that after the first four rounds of pleading, her mother was not going to get up and her father's death was someone else's problem for awhile.

It was just as well Bella was a pragmatic child. She remembered how her parents used the microwave and she tried to leave the place as tidy as possible for when her mommy came back. She was off school for the rest of the week for 'grieving'.

She grew very bored.

She'd coloured in all of her books. She'd played every conceivable game of pretend. She'd created a den in her bedroom, the sitting room and the back garden. She'd made her Barbies and Kens play every game of boyfriend and girlfriend.

She even forgot her father was dead.

She took her little notebook to the shed on the third day, absently thinking she'd see him there, grinning at her, as she pulled the shed door open.

She was shocked when there wasn't anybody there. The shed was empty, smelling of grass and dust.

"Oh," she said, hands cold around her notebook. She quietly closed the shed door again, trekked back to the house, up to her room and tucked her notebook away into the back of her closet.

She never looked at it again.

Eventually Renee got up. She quietly tidied up the house and took her daughter to school. It was the absence of her husband that made her realise how much Bella was like him. Same eyes, same hair, same way of screwing up her face when she was concentrating, same way of quietly getting on with things. It didn't hurt her as much as she thought it would; it was nice to think that some small part of Charlie was still with her in the form of her 8-year-old daughter. She looked to her daughter and knew what she had to do. Her little girl had to be protected, had to be shielded from men like James Talbot and all those nasty paedophiles, serial killers, rapists and kidnappers. She had to protect her little human formed sanity.

That was when she started going to the local church. She figured that maybe her husband died because she hadn't been as close to God as she used to be. Maybe if she showed more devotion, maybe He would protect her little girl. And…what else was there now? What else was she supposed to do?

She never visited the grave.

It seemed pointless.

She went to the church everyday, while Bella was at school, talking to the pastor, praying in the pews and signing up to the Bible groups. In the first few months it was there that Renee Sylvia Swan found God.

But it was also there that Renee Sylvia Swan found Phil Dwyer.

Phil Dwyer was a God-fearing accountant for a small but reasonably successful lumber company. He was ready for the next expected step in his life - find a suitable and beautiful wife. No children though. He found them slightly repulsive - brattish things with sticky fingers and a bottomless hole to fill with worthless things. Why couldn't they be in the mould of the Good Lord Jesus?

But the moment he saw Renee Swan he knew that she was the One. She had the beauty of a matured woman but her eyes held a certain sadness he liked to think he could be the man to cure it. In one particular church meeting he finally straightened his conventional tie and smoothed back his brown hair, finally plucking up the courage to talk to her. His palms sweated and his stomach contracted with unfamiliar butterflies as he came towards her, grinning widely and holding out a hand for her to shake, "Hello there! Phil Dwyer, accountant. I don't think I have seen you here. What's your name?"

And that was how it started.

First they only met at church. He sat next to her every once in a while and accompanied her to their Bible group. It was a slight setback when she mentioned her 8 year old daughter but he thought, as she showed him the picture of pale, wan looking girl, Bella was just another girl who needed a father figure. He felt he was more than capable to do that role. He may not like children, but if the Good Lord called for him to help this child then so be it.

Renee began to bring in Bella for Sunday school. Renee thought it would give her the guidance that Renee was so benefitting from.

Bella, naturally, hated it.

Why did she have to get up on a Sunday for _school? _Why did she have to sit with a bunch of washed out children that did not understand the concept of personal space? Why did she have to listen to long boring passages on why she should be grateful for a man who lived and died two thousand years ago?

The young priest who led the Sunday school was explaining the concept of the Holy Trinity on her first visit.

As he began to explain about the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Bella put up her hand, as she saw a massive flaw in this whole idea.

"Yes Isabella?"

"Bella," she corrected precociously, "This God person...what if He isn't real? What if He is just made-up? He comes from a book right? Books don't always have real things in them so this God could be made-up."

There was a collective gasp in the classroom and the priest pursed his lips, "He's real, Isabella. He watches over all of us, He is protecting you from sin."

"Does He watch us all the time?"

"Yes."

"Even when I'm on the loo?"

The young priest sighed irritably, "Does it matter? He's there, above us and if you follow His Word, you can join Him in heaven."

"Yes," Bella said just as impatiently, "but what if He isn't? What then?"

For the rest of the session she was made to sit at the back and be quiet.

It was a month in when Phil finally made the plunge and asked Renee to dinner. Renee did not know why she said yes. Phil was nice, a little earnest perhaps and she had a feeling he was not experienced with children, but...she needed something to spark again. She hadn't felt anything in months. And Bella needed a father again, someone to help protect her.

Bella, like most children, had a sense that Phil was not accustomed to being around people as young as her. He used long complicated words and didn't seem to understand what 'pretend' was. She tried to talk to him about her stories, like she did with her father, but when he tried to explain to her that dragons and fairies weren't real, she stopped.

Phil thought that Bella was a precocious and fanciful child who needed to learn about the realities of this life. Her father had just died for goodness sake! She needed to get her head on straight and find solace in the Good Lord, not in books and fairy tales. She was far too old for that nonsense.

Renee was oblivious to this; she was waiting for the spark. She wanted to feel the same again. Maybe when they were married, maybe she'd feel something then.

It was not long before Phil and Renee were seriously courting each other. Soon, Phil was sleeping on Charlie's side of the bed and his shaving things were by the sink in the tiny bathroom.

Phil tried to engage with Bella but the two secretly grew to hate each other. Phil hated the way she was a trouble in Sunday school, scaring the other children with her horrible stories and the way she monopolised her mother. Bella hated the way Phil was changing her mother from the mother who let her climb trees and play in the street with the neighbourhood children to a mother who hardly let her even go out into the back garden. But they kept cordial with each other to keep their Renee happy.

"Who knows," Bella would think idly to herself, "Maybe Mom will get bored of him."

This was not the case.

It was over the breakfast table, 8 months after the death, that Phil proposed. It was quite prompt and Bella was present. Bella watched with abject horror as Renee nodded mutely and let Phil slide on the small engagement ring onto her finger.

Bella promptly got up from the table and ran out to school into the rain, the image of Phil's smug grin a glue on her retina.

Once there was a stitch in her side, she stopped by the road, uncaring of passers-by and bent over clutching her stomach, as pain that knocked the breath out of her tore through her.

_Where are you? _

_Where have you gone?_

_Why did you leave me?_

The wedding was a dignified affair. It was in the same chapel of the funeral. Bella was made to wear a yellow bridesmaid's dress that made her skin look sallow and her hair frizzed from the downpour outside. She sat miserably during the ceremony and through the reception, watching glumly as her mother and the man who in Bella's mind was being nicknamed as 'The Toad' dance and laugh.

At 8 years old, Bella learned about anger.

How it eats you up and chews on your mind, hot and strong through the body.

This anger sat in Bella's stomach for 9 years. Sometimes it would spike and roil at certain moments. Like when they wouldn't let her to the Prom. Or get the clothes she wanted. Or forced more of God down her throat.

She grew to not only hate Phil, but Renee. She hated the person she had become; a washed out woman who followed every word of her husband and covered her daughter's eyes from every experience that was deemed even a little bit interesting.

But Bella, a teenager now, became very creative with her escape methods. She learned the different ledges of the drainage pipe outside her window. She learned how to shimmy down it without much noise. She learned how to get to her friend's house without taking too much time.

Seth Clearwater was in Bella's class and they had gotten to know each other through being the only two outcasts in their year. Bella became known as the holy loner girl and Seth was the depressed emo. By the laws of physics, they had to converge with each other.

Seth would let her in through the back door and past the sleeping grandmother up to his room. "You should just run away," Seth suggested one night, as they lay on the bedspread staring up at the poster of Slipknot.

"Where would I go?" Bella asked, hands on her stomach.

"New York, because that's where all the writers go," Seth stared eagerly at her, his eyes rimmed with more black eye liner than a transvestite.

"What would I do? How would I make money?"

"Waitress, you've done stuff like that at that church of yours."

"Yes…the Easter Bake Sale with all the old women that have pastel up to their ears and old men who pretend not to look down my pinafore. Shit's different in New York, more sophisticated."

She loved swearing. It felt wonderfully awful of her.

"Well…you're sophisticated."

"Don't talk shit."

"Well you are!" Seth stared earnestly at her, "if anyone is going to get out of here, its you. You just…you just seem to push yourself. You have all those folders you keep hidden from your parents – full of places you want to go to, stuff you want to see. You…" he trailed off, looked embarrassed and turned away from her.

"That is unbearably cute. I think I just puked in my mouth," Bella said this sweetly and Seth punched her playfully on the arm.

But the idea turned over in her brain and she thought of the countless scrappy folders she had back at her house, filled with countries and clothes she wanted. In her spare times in the library she had painstakingly cut out things from travel magazines and fashion magazines she'd sneaked from the local shop.

They meant everything to her.

Seth was right.

She wanted to leave.

Badly.

She just needed a trigger.

It came in the form of these folders being set alight.

Phil treated them like they were hard-core porn or drugs.

He explained to Renee that such folders would lead their Bella to get all sorts of un-natural thoughts. The thought of taking Renee went into a frenzy and the moment Bella saw the column of smoke, she snapped.

But she didn't scream.

She didn't cry.

She waited.

Once all was quiet, she pulled out a rucksack, stuffed all of her meagre belongings into it, everything from her grandmother's blanket to the few ratty novels she had sneaked from under her stepfather's nose, and took out the roll of dollars bills she had been saving since she was eleven.

She dressed in comfy jeans, her father's T-shirt and an old sweatshirt. She slid down the drainpipe and left the Dwyer household without a backwards glance.

She did have to make one stop before she left.

"You lied to me," she told her father's gravestone, standing in the cold of the winter night, her breath coming out into gossamer clouds, "You lied."

Silence.

"Yeah…I just wanted to say that to you," she nodded, her fingers tight around her rucksack.

She stomped away, the trees rustled and rain sprinkled lightly across the shorn grass.

She managed to get a Greyhound out of her little town to Seattle. From Seattle she planned to take another through to the East, following Seth's words.

What she hadn't counted on was meeting a charming wealthy man on her second stop.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone," he told her, brushing fingers across the back of her hand in the grubby bus depot, "I can give you a lift if you want?"

17 year old Bella was charmed. The man had a slight Italian accent and dark olive skin with smooth black hair. He was everything she had been dreaming about.

And so she stepped into the rich man's car. And let her drive her all the way to New York.

When he kept on going, she started to panic. Like a frightened rabbit, she tried to flee, unseeing of the butt of the gun descending on the back of her skull.

She was taken to the underground concrete cave, where a glittering insect like woman assessed her and pronounced her beautiful enough to be put in with her collection of precious jewels.

Isabella Marie Swan disappeared.

Sapphire was born.

**That…was intense to write. I hope I got it right. **

**So some history on Bella! I know I put in earlier about Phil touching her and Renee being an alcoholic, but when I got round to thinking about it, it seemed a little melodramatic. So instead I just made them into control freaks…yay! I am changing the previous chapter to match this one…its not a big change so I don't think you need to reread it.**

**Please tell me what you think! Love to see your comments, favourites and alerts. **

**Also: Merry Christmas when it comes round! Hope you all have a wonderful holiday!**

**Love,**

**Bones**


	6. Summer Dress

**I am sorry this took so long! I've been so busy and writer's block is a massive bitch. But, I finally managed to write this in an afternoon. Thank you for all the faves, comments and alerts! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy. **

**Aaaaaanywaaayyy, hope you enjoy this!**

_Summer dress_

It was late spring when Edward came during a Saturday in an Armani suit, requesting me for the day. I was in the rec room, with an avocado facemask on and reading a Cosmo when one of Padrona's lackeys burst into the room. "Sapphire! Lion's here to see you. He wants to take you out to a hotel rather than stay here. Padrona wants you to hurry, they're in her office."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at me, in a ratty old 'I heart NY' hoodie and worn tracksuit bottoms, where the elastic had started to fray. Everything else in my wardrobe was pretty much the same. A whorehouse didn't require its employees to have pretty clothes that covered their midriff and hardly anyone ever asked to take out a girl for a day.

"Shit," was the first word out of my mouth, slapping the magazine close and making a beeline for the sink, washing the mask off my face.

Everyone was still, either unable to help or unwilling to help. Aquamarine was the first to jump up, her corn silk hair pinned back from her face as she said quickly: "I have a summer dress you could borrow. You're about the same size as me so it should fit."

Aquamarine had never really spoken to me before. She more or less kept herself to herself but the times we had spoken, she was always kind, something rare in a place like this. I smiled gratefully at her and said, "that would be brilliant, thank you 'Marine."

I followed her to her room and she pulled out a pale pink dress with spaghetti straps. The skirt's hem was becoming undone and the lace around the bodice was fraying. But it was better than nothing. "Thank you so much Marine. I'll give it back I promise."

Marine shrugged, "I don't really care. Never wear it anyway."

I smiled ruefully at her and took the cotton dress, "Thanks anyway."

I ran to my room and tore my clothes off, slipping the cotton dress over my head. Taking my beaten old hairbrush I combed my hair quickly in the mirror, trying to make it fall in smooth sheets. I slapped a few bits of make up on, uncaring if it actually looked all right. I pulled on a pair of scruffy ballet pumps smoothed my hair back and took a deep breath before opening the door and running towards the Floor.

I burst into the bar area and sprinted towards another door labelled "Private". I tripped into the room, grabbing the back of a chair to keep myself from falling flat on my face.

"Ah, Sapphire, graceful as ever," Padrona's voice was sneering as I straightened myself, smoothing my hands nervously over the cotton of my dress. Padrona's office is neat, organised. Decorated in beige and brown, the only flair of colour is from the potted pink orchids behind the desk. There's even a picture of her fat son, his fat wife and even fatter grandchildren who lived in Italy.

"That's alright," another voice said smoothly, "grace is overrated anyway."

Edward looked sharp in his Armani suit, I had to admit. His reddish brown hair was still in its 'I've just been freshly fucked' look and he grinned that warped grin of his. He turned to Padrona, "So it's settled then. I have her until four?"

"Yes, with a few conditions," Padrona pressed a button on her desk phone, which gave a nasal buzz.

Stefan entered a few minutes later, bowed his head to Padrona, "Ma'am, you called."

"Stefan will follow you everywhere you go as a precaution against…accidents," Padrona smiled coyly at Edward.

But Edward frowned, "Surely that isn't necessary."

Padrona's nostrils flared but her smile remained constant, "its standard policy. To make sure our property doesn't get lost or stolen."

Edward's relaxed hand curled into a fist before spasming out to relax again. "You know I am more than capable in keeping Sapphire within my care. I value our partnership and am not willing to cause its breakage any time soon. I like my privacy, Padrona, I'm sure you understand that."

Padrona continued to smile, her eyes becoming hard, "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Please, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement," he flashed a grin again, his fingers reached into his inside pocket of his jacket. I saw the flash of a gun handle slotted neatly into a holster before he pulled out a roll of bills, leaning forward to slide it across the expanse of desk.

Padrona's eyes glittered with greed and she took the money, shutting it away into her desk. With a flick of her hand, she said, "You're no longer needed Stefan."

Stefan masked his surprise but left, closing the door behind him. Padrona turned her attention back to Edward again, smiling warmly now, "Have fun and bring her back in one piece."

Edward already had an arm wrapped around me and was ushering me out of the door, "Of course, of course. I'll make sure she'll be back."

I hardly said a word through this whole interaction and let Edward push me up the stairs to the bright spring day in New York. "Thank God. The old cow was getting on my nerves," he muttered, as I stood blinking in the bright natural light.

I still said nothing until he pulled out a set of car keys and pressed a button to unlock the Aston Martin that was parked across the street. "Seriously?" I asked him, as I followed him across the tarmac.

He glanced at me with an almost outraged look in his gaze, "Are you insulting my Sadie?"

I froze, staring at him for a good minute, and then my face broke into an incredulous grin, "You _named_ it?"

"Her," he corrected me, opening the door to let me in, "hurry up. We need to go shopping."

"What?"

"Get in and I'll tell you."

I huffed, stomped forward and plunked myself into the car.

Arrogant jerk.

He slammed the door behind me and sauntered his way around to the driver's door. When he got in he grinned roguishly at me, "you do realise you've got eyeshadow on your cheek?"

I scowled at him, "I had 5 minutes to get ready dickwad, could have given me a bit of heads up you were coming to see me."

He laughed and reached forward, rubbing the smudge off with his callused thumb.

This was the first time he'd touched me without duress.

Tiny electric shocks fizzled out from where he'd touched and I nearly jolted back with the force of it.

The fuck?

Ever since I'd started this job, when a man touched me or I touched them, I felt nothing.

No warmth.

No sparks.

So this… just one small touch, barely a brush…crap.

Not what I was expecting

I masked my shock as he then started the car, smiling in quiet satisfaction. I'd never seen it on his face before. It was a link to the more boyish side to him.

I sniggered to myself before quickly cutting it off, "Why are you taking me shopping?"

"Because I am not taking you to _Delmonico's _looking like I picked you off the street," he said bluntly, his smile disappearing, "that thing you're wearing looks like its about to disintegrate."

Arrogant arsehole.

"Piss off," I snapped, "its not even mine."

He paused, not looking at me, before saying, "I'll take you to _Saks_."

I said nothing, folding my arms and staring sulkily out of the window. We span past busy streets, people taking full advantage of a sunlit day. He drove fast, swerving expertly around swearing taxi drivers. "Do you always drive like a maniac?" I commented, wincing as we nearly clipped the edge of a bicyclist.

"I'll have you know, I'm an excellent driver," he said confidently, "do you really think I'd harm my Sadie?"

"What's with the name?"

"Its after one of _The Beatles'_ songs: _Sexy Sadie_," grinning impishly, he began to sing in a low monotone: "_Sexy Sadie, what have you done__? __You made a fool of everyone__. __You made a fool of everyone__. __Sexy Sadie ooh what have you done_…"

He continued, his voice breaking in the parts that were too high for him and the rest of it a low dirge.

It was terrible.

I began to snigger, covering my mouth, "God that's awful."

"What? Are you doubting my amazing singing skills?" he said incredulously, and then continued to sing, "_One sunny day, the world was waiting for a lover_…"

"Ok, stop!" I laughed, the tension in the air draining away, "stop murdering _The Beatles._ I'm pretty sure that's blasphemy."

He laughed and finally stopped trying to sing, "So if I'm trying to pick up a chick, I shouldn't sing to them?"

I snorted, "Definitely, do _not _sing to them. Or go onto _American Idol_."

He sighed dramatically, "I guess that shoots my dream of becoming a rock star. Dammit."

I sniggered, "poor you. With your Aston Martin called Sadie and your own personal whore on hand to take to lunch at _Delmonico's_. Life must be _hard_."

He rolled his eyes, pulling up outside of the glittering and gleaming building that is Saks on 5th Avenue. "Are you allowed to park here?" I asked.

He gave me an sceptical look, "Did you just ask a mobster if it's alright for him to park in an illegal area? Seriously?"

He was out of the car before I could reply and I sniggered again before following him. It seemed that the further away I was from the brothel, the more cheerful I got. I felt…pleasant, if that's a way to describe your feelings. The sun was out and the buzz of the city was all around me. Edward was waiting by the doors of Saks, eyeing me as I sauntered towards him, "you seem cheerful."

I shrugged, "I like being out. Even if it is with you."

"Ouch, that stung," he said lightly, taking my waist and pulling me towards to the door, "c'mon."

"You really don't have to buy me anything," I said nervously as we entered the cosmetics section, smelling lightly of vanilla and cinnamon.

"Hmm…I should get you a perfume as well," he said idly, as he collected a smelling strip from one of the many perfectly turned out cosmetic sellers and taking a smell, "Ugh, _Miss Dior_. Jane wore that all the time."

He chucked it to the floor and made a beeline for the nearest lift. "We need the third floor," he said knowledgably, without looking at the floor plan stamped next to the gold lifts.

"How do you know?" I asked, as we watched the floors tick by.

"Jane could shop for America if she wanted to," he said absently, gazing down at me, "she had a talent for spending my money."

"You really don't need to get me anything," I said impatiently. The lift dinged, the doors slid open and Edward all but pushed me inside.

"Bella, I have had a shopper for a girlfriend, a shopper for a sister, a shopper for a sister-in-law and a shopper for a mother. All have reminded me that a girl needs a good set of clothes to take her through life. You my dear, need a good set of clothes."

"Clothes? As in plural?" I nearly choked, glancing around at my rather opulent surroundings.

"Yes," he said, as if I was a particularly slow child, "All I've ever seen you in is lingerie. And even though you do look lovely," he eyed me suggestively, earning him a punch. "Ow! As I was saying, you need a few good set of clothes that make you look good not naked."

There was an old lady wearing what looked like the Hope diamond around her neck in the lift with us, who was starting to stare at us with distaste when we got out at the third floor, "but what about _Delmonico's_? Don't we have time-"

"I have a private room there that I know only I and my family ever use. They can wait. Now, where's Paul?"

His head snapped to and fro, eyeing the place around us. I knew he wasn't going to give in, so I chewed on my tongue and allowed him to drag me by the hand in his quest to 'find Paul.'

Paul turned out to be a very handsome and very gay shop clerk.

"Edward! Long time, no see. No longer with Jane?" Paul grinned a smile that needed sunglasses, his beautifully tanned skin in great contrast with the whiteness of his teeth. A streak of shocking white hair zipped across the inky blackness of his hair and he was the same staggering height as Edward. He wore an all black Armani suit, with a deep purple shirt and an even deeper purple tie.

"Yeah, didn't work out," Edward grinned widely and then gestured to me, "Bella, Paul, Paul, Bella."

Paul's amber eyes snapped to me and he grinned, "Ah, new flavour of the month." He shook one manicured hand with my own, eyeing me up and down, "she's pretty. Not tanned like the last one but…pretty."

I smiled nervously, and muttered a 'hi'.

"Bella's just come back from visiting her parents in Paris, and wouldn't you know it, her bags got lost. Could you find her a good set of clothes that should cover all situations? Make her look good, y'know? Bella isn't as much as a fashionista as Jane was, and then have it all sent to my address?"

Paul's eyes literally lit up with delight, "Of course!" he turned his attention to me and grinned, "My own Barbie Bella. God, its great that you're tall, cause I have several things lined up for a tall woman like you…"

We were hustled into a private changing room and told to wait, but not before being offered something to drink.

As Paul whisked away after knowing my sizes, I sat nervously at the edge of my plush seat while Edward relaxed back in his chair, scrolling though his Blackberry, "why do you have tog et me a personal shopper?" I hissed, glancing around at the stylishly decorated room, "I'm not that hopeless."

He gave me an 'are you serious?' look and then went back to scrolling through his phone.

"I hate you," I deadpanned, staring up at the ceiling, "I feel like I'm about to choke on the scent of expense here."

"Only the best for my 'flavour of the month'."

That made something clunk in my brain.

It made me feel hot again.

What the fuck am I doing?

I break my death stare at the ceiling to stare at him.

Arrogant wanker.

He glanced at me with a smirk, "he likes you, I can tell."

"Why?"

"Because you're tall. Jane was a little slip of a thing. You're at least over five foot. I've never seen him so excited."

I frowned at the ceiling, "so…this is a temporary thing. Like a…relationship? Am I just that? A flavour of the month?"

There was a pause. A thick, heavy one. "Why do you need to ask?"

My fingers dug into the leather of my chair and I blew out all the air from my cheeks, "Because-"

"Alright, beautiful! You ready to try on some outfits?"

/~*~\\\

Paul, even if he is slightly manic, is a genius.

He just seems to know what makes my waist seem small, my skin all glowy, my eyes more sparkly, my ass less big.

He stripped me down to my underwear, then helped me get into the silks, velvets, satins, linens, cottons of green, purple, red, pink, yellow and blue. My feet were graced by the presence of Manolos, Jimmy Choos, Christian Louboutin, Oscar De La Renta and Valentina.

Yeah…intense.

Edward would judge each outfit, eyeing me with those bottle green eyes of his. He'd be blunt at times, i.e. 'that looks shit' but most of the time, he would nod appreciatively and the garments would be added to the pile of stuff.

My stomach was growling when we were finished, and Edward told me to get into a Chloe aquamarine pleated skirt and white silk blouse, with black toe heels as he went with Paul to pay. I don't know what happened to 'Marine's dress. Thrown away probably. The rest of the stuff was put into bags then carried away to God knows where and then Edward came back, examined me one last time and nodded in approval.

Paul was ecstatic, "You look amazing! _I'm_ amazing! Just a bit of perfume and make-up and you'd be _fabulous_."

Edward took my hand, pulling me close and said, "Maybe next time. But we have lunch to catch, don't we sweetheart?"

The amount of lies building up is making my head spin. And I'm the queen of lies.

"Yeah, of course, _darling_," I replied coyly, fluttering my eyelashes at him and giving him a smile.

I think he knew it was bullshit.

/~*~\\\

_Delmonico's_ was a steakhouse on 56 Beaver Street, the building mimicking the European style. The inside is decorated in reds and browns with yellow lightings around the restaurant. The maître-d' led us through the low lights to the back of the restaurant, Edward's hand burning on my hip.

The maître-d' opened a pair of dark wood doors at the back of the restaurant and gestured inside, "A waiter will be here in a moment to take your orders. Meanwhile, make yourself comfortable."

I examined the room we were in, seeing the modern painting of Central Park on the opposite wall, the crystal vases of roses set on the mahogany chest of drawers on the right hand wall and the table set with a white tablecloth and silver cutlery.

"Fancy," I said dully, "the best for your 'flavour of the month'."

"What's gotten into you?" Edward asked exasperatedly, "if its about the clothes-"

"Why the fuck would it be about the clothes?" I snapped, plucking at my shirt, "do you honestly think I would get wound up over clothes?"

"Well Jane would go insane if so much as a speck got on her clothes, so-"

"Stop comparing me to your ex-girlfriend!"

My skin feels tingly.

My insides hot. Scorching.

The knock on the door does nothing to cool it all.

"Come in!" Edward barked.

The frightened waiter slipped in and asked about ordering something. I turned to Edward, and said in a hotly sweet voice, "Why don't you order me something, sweetness. You know what's good here."

Edward's jaw clenched but he picked up one of the menus from the table and rattled off a series of dishes.

I sat myself down at the table and steepled my fingers in front of my mouth, wondering how my eyes were stinging.

The waiter left and Edward sat down opposite me, staring at me intently, "Alright, what is it?"

I looked at him, really looked at him.

In a weird way, he's kinda naïve.

He expects to become friends or whatever the hell we are with a rival's prostitute and not expect for that prostitute to have baggage.

And God, do I have baggage.

He's staring at me with those large green eyes of his.

Underneath that seemingly debonair attitude, he's still a boy.

Ha.

The old soul and young one.

"I'm still not entirely clear on what this is," I said, leaning back in my chair, "am I a friend? Or a friend that is meant to become something more? And even then, what might we do about this situation we have." I gestured to myself, "about the manacles I have. The position you're in. The fact that this world is _not_ safe, no matter where you go."

I leaned forward, smiling sadly, "I haven't spent this long and worked this hard to be killed before my 30th birthday. You know what I'm hoping for?"

He shook his head, brow furrowed as he listened.

I placed my hands flat on the table, staring down at my plate, "That if I do as I'm told. That if I suck the right cocks and fuck the right men and fold myself away when in between, that I'll get out of this. That I'll be 'promoted' as it were to a more stable position, like Padrona." He scowled at the name but I continued anyway, "it's a small hope, but I'm willing to take it. And someone like you can destroy that hope."

He still said nothing and I clasped my hands together in my lap, "In other words: I don't want to get hurt because some big shot playboy with too much money took pity on me. I'd like a guarantee for my safety before you decide to play around with my feelings and my wellbeing."

The waiter entered just at that point with a bottle of white wine. There was a tinkling silence as the waiter filled our glasses and then hurried away.

Edward rubbed his finger around the rim of the glass before bringing it to his lips and drinking, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank.

I dropped my hands to my sides and leaned back again, my skin still tingling.

"Hurting you was never my intention," he finally said as he put down his glass, "and I'm sorry if I've ever given you the impression that I was following the contrary." He leaned forward and locked gazes with me, "When I saw you on that stage, I didn't see a dancer or a whore. I saw a girl. I saw a girl who was just trying to breathe. When I looked into your eyes, there was nothing there. A million questions went through my head," he tapped the side of his skull, smiling wanly. "What does a girl like you think, when you're up there dancing? Or with one of your clients? Or as you go to sleep at night? Do you have dreams and if yes, what are they? Are there people you miss or people you want to meet? Have you ever loved? It wasn't the same with the other girls." He tossed his hands away from his head, letting them flutter to his sides, mirroring me, "it was only you. And then when I actually got down to talking to you it was…strange, in a good way. You have this dark sense of humour, and you're eyes show that you're much older than twenty-two. Yet you sometimes blush like you're sixteen and scowl like you're four. You're…an enigma. One of those rare things in life that someone like me will never understand." He smiled, in a rather lost way, cocking his head onto one side, "I don't want to play around with you. I don't want to lead you on, or hurt you. I very much want to keep on seeing you. And…if things go that way. Or if I feel sure of my decision to free you without seeming suspicious. Then maybe one day I will buy out your contract."

The breath was sucked out of me, until I was dry on the inside.

Something different was now underneath my skin.

Not hot anger.

Not nearly that strong.

Something fluttering and delicate.

Like the wings on a dragonfly.

He gazed at me, head still cocked onto one side, "But until then, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are never hurt. I promise."

I couldn't help it. I had to get back to reality, possibly crushing the fluttering delicate thing in my chest, "Promises don't mean a lot from people like you."

He didn't look hurt. He just nodded and said, "What if I swore it on the lives of my family?"

I took a breath but yet again the waiter bringing our starters interrupted us. I was glad for it actually. It allowed me collect myself.

Once the waiter left us with our Caesar salads I finally replied, "that might do it."

Something seemed to break in those eyes of him and he grinned widely, "good."

I picked up my napkin and smoothed it across my lap, "so, I scowl like a four year old?"

He laughed and picked up his glass, proffering it for a toast, "what shall we toast to?"

I picked up my own and held it close to his. I then named the tiny fluttering thing in my chest, "to hope."

The chink of our glasses echoed.

**YUSS, so glad that's done. Whatcha think? Hmm? Isn't Edward kinda adorable? Kinda scrumptious? And Bella…did you think her outburst was warranted? **

**Haha…Paul as a gay shopping clerk…I couldn't resist…**

**Leave your thoughts please! I love hearing from you and will try to reply to as many as I can. **

**Till next time my lovelies!**

**Bones x**


	7. Dress Shirt

**I do not own Twilight**

**Sorry for the delay! As you probably know the whole burning of fanfiction has been going on and my other story Bloody Fingerprints was taken down. Being the perfectionist that I am, I had to edit all of the chapters before republishing them. Took awhile but I made it!**

**So here is the next chapter. Summary of what happened the last time:**

**1. Bella and Edward go out to lunch**

**2. But not before meeting the wonderfully camp Paul in Saks for a wee ****'****Pretty Woman****'**** shopping spree**

**3. Edward and Bella discussed what their arrangement is. **

**Enjoy the show!**

_Dress shirt_

"...so there he is, humping the shit out of my leg, trying to get a feel in even though he only paid for a show. And then he fucking shoots the gun! Y'understand me? He fucking came in his pants!" Those of us listening gave shocked gasps and Emerald gave a nervous giggle, her face blushing red. Jade sighed dramatically, pulling a hand through her strawberry blonde hair as she told her 'disastrous day at work' story, "he then gives me this stupid grin, like its the funniest fucking thing in the world, still humping my leg by the way, and then only tips me 4 fucking dollars. _Four. Fucking. Dollars._" Jade collapsed onto the couch, "they were my good stockings and I'm never gonna get the stain out. _Wanker._"

I patted her knee sympathetically, "could have been worse. He could have paid for another show."

Jade growled, "I'd have fucking ripped his balls off if he did. Creep."

"How often do you get clients like that?" Emerald's eyes were wide as she listened. Diamond, Opal, Topaz, Garnet and Aquamarine were also sitting with us, crowded as we were on the couch in the Rec room.

Everyone spoke in unison, "All. The. Time."

"Listen sugar," Topaz spoke with her usual matronly way, "there are four types of clients. The first, lowest and most common form is the Creeps." There was a collective shudder, "the men who live in their mother's basement. The only women they've ever been in contact with apart from family members and ourselves are the women on their screens. They need us to get laid or feel better about their lacking manhood or try out fetishes they've read about on the internet. They're societies losers. The perpetually lonely."

We murmured in agreement as Topaz continued, "second type are the Bereft. The soldiers who are mutilated in battle, the widowers who can't let go of their ex, the physically disabled. The guys which no normal girl will date. But these men, just like every guy on the planet, needs to get laid." She sighed, pulling a hand through her hair, "they're usually not too bad. You feel sorry for them to be honest. They're just looking for comfort, so they're gentle. And sometimes they cry. It depends really.

"Thirdly, are the Alpha Pigs. They're the worst. They're demanding, insensitive, selfish and dominating. They come because their wives and fiancés are too prudish or ugly to fulfil these men's greatest desires and fantasies. They reserve harsh fucking for us, basically." She eyed Em with a degree of worry in her gaze, "I just hope you don't get a particularly bad one as your first. They are never gentle. And they do not care."

Em's eyes went wide and she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her birthday was in two days. Padrona was holding a party auction on that night. The highest bidder will ultimately win her debut. So it was inevitable that she'd get an Alpha Pig, since they were the only ones who could afford it. You could only hope for one whose tastes weren't extreme.

"And finally, the rarest and most extinct form: the Saviours," she glanced around, "you guys remember that missionary that came to visit each of us."

Jade snorted, "he told me that God would forgive me of my transgressions as I gave him a blow job."

We all sniggered as Topaz continued, "ok some of them are not all Saviours. They pretend to be Saviours when they're more like Creeps. But sometimes, just sometimes, you get a genuine one." Suddenly, she leaned forward and took Emerald's hand, "just pray to God honey that you don't get one of those."

Em's eyes were so wide now, I'm surprised her eyes didn't fall out, "Why?"

"'Cause they will surely get you killed. That's what happened to the Emerald before you. She was stupid enough to get herself tangled with one. She went out to meet with him in broad daylight so they could runaway together. But they were found, middle of Central Park. He was killed. She- she was punished and killed." There was a pause and Topaz took a shuddering breath, "just promise me you'll stay away from 'em if you get one darlin', ok?"

I remained silent. As far as the others knew, Edward was a Alpha Pig. I hadn't denied it but I hadn't confirmed it either. I didn't need them to warn me. I was being careful. I wasn't going to fall in love with him or anything stupid like that. Love was a luxury I couldn't afford.

Em nodded slowly and she unravelled herself from where she had been curled up at the foot couch as she was, "any...tips, y'know? For...for the first night."

"Lube," everyone said at once.

Emerald flushed again and I explained, "it will hurt otherwise, more than it needs to. It certainly won't be pleasurable but that's better than feeling like you are about to be ripped in half."

"Put it on surreptitiously though," Diamond put in, "these men like to pretend you're enjoying it as much as they are. So that also means fake an orgasm. Y'know how?"

Em's face was a picture. It was classic.

She eventually shook her head, blushing scarlet at the subject. Diamond grinned wickedly and said, "this is how I do it." She scrunched her face into a look of mock ecstasy, lips parted, "oh...oh...OH...yes! Yes! God, yes! Holy fuck, ah! CLIENT'S NAME!"

The last part had us all giggle-snorting like 12 year old girls at a sleepover. Diamond grinned a bowed her dark head in a mock bow, imitating Elvis Presley with a: "thank you, thank you very much.

"Client's name? Seriously? My god you have problems," I sniggered.

"That was terrible," Jade declared, "You've watched too much porn. Everyone knows that porn stars fake orgasms way too much for them to make it realistic." She turned to Emerald, "trust me, its all in the gasps and grunts. Try and aim for a balance between tennis player and sprinter but gentler. Less butch. You should…orgasm in style."

Jade then proceeded to do her version of a fake orgasm, gasping and grunting prettily, her lips parted, her eyes fluttered closed.

"That was _shit_," Diamond accused, after Jade had finished, "far worse than mine. You sounded like a dog getting fucked."

"I did not!" Jade retorted, " you just sounded like some drunken prom date."

"Listen guys, you've got _nothing_ on me," I said with confidence, "This is how you do it."

I rolled neck, cleared my throat and began my performance. Breathing heavily and tossing my head back, "oh…oh...oh fuck, yes! Ah fuck, YES! YES! OH…AH…" then I took a deep breath and blew the biggest raspberry possible.

The others cracked up, the earlier spat forgotten. "Well you should just become an actress, darlin'. Cause that was just beautiful," Topaz wiped her eyes as she fought her sniggers.

"Deserves an Oscar that shit," Diamond confirmed, her smile brilliantly white against her dark skin.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" Pearl was by the kitchen island, eyeing us irritably over her Vogue magazine, "you sound like fucking chainsaws, what's your problem?"

"Discussing which ass is bigger: yours or Padrona's," Jade snarked back.

"Fuck off," Pearl snapped back, face red with anger.

"You fuck off, slut. Why don't you go fuck one of the Suits, you fucking snitch," Jade snarled, flicking Pearl the finger.

Pearl's face reddened, she spluttered before slapping her magazine closed and flouncing out the room, door slamming behind her.

Emerald was looking confusedly around at us, "wha-"

"She told on the old Emerald," Aquamarine explained quietly, "she got Emerald killed."

There was a silence.

I picked up my tea and swallowed a few gulps.

Emerald had been my friend. My mentor. My guardian. She had kept me feeling.

The day she died, I became cold. Hollow.

Topaz, ever the one to try and cheer things up, "I got this story of when I got his one client, who had a thing for feet. He asked me to get him off with my toes. It was the most strangest…"

/~*~\\\

"The fuck you dragging me out here for?" I snapped at Edward the next day, as he drove me through heaving Manhattan.

It had been two weeks since his last visit: he'd muttered something about Miami at the end of lunch the last time. So it was another surprise when he dragged me out into the blazing sunshine again on a Sunday afternoon. "I have charity shit to go to. I need a woman's opinion on my outfit," he said simply, grinning roguishly behind his sunglasses.

"Firstly, what's 'charity shit'? Secondly, I thought I was hopeless at fashion, according to you. And thirdly, are you sure its safe to take me to your place. For all you know, I could steal stuff and put graffiti on your priceless artworks and…shit." I finished lamely.

God I am witty.

"'Shit'?" he snorted, "I will tell you now, Bella darling, I live for your witty repartee."

"Suck my dick," I retorted, "answer the question."

"My mother is holding a charity Gala. Helping the kids in Africa or something like that. I need a suit befitting of the occasion. You're a woman, so you know what turns a woman on. You're gonna help me choose a suit that will have all the single women at that Gala practically tripping over themselves to get into my pants."

I stared at him, open mouthed before saying in a slightly hoarse voice, "You are incredible."

"Thank you," he said, sounding satisfied.

"I didn't mean that in a good way," I said bluntly. "You could technically fuck me, if you need to get laid. That is my original purpose."

"There's no fun in that," Edward explained, "I'm a red blooded male, I need to have the thrill of the chase, the hunt. Even if it is in in a too big hall with shit decorations, shit people, shit food and shit alcohol. You're going to help me."

I didn't take this to heart. In fact, I was incredibly glad that he didn't want to fuck me. Sex would complicate this

"Has anyone ever told you that you are seriously disturbed?" I told him, arching my eyebrow at him.

He grinned sardonically, "Many times, darling."

"You're a dick," I said bluntly.

"Charming as ever," he said just as drily.

"At least you know I tell the truth," I said, leaning back in my seat as we pulled up next to a steel and glass apartment building. Edward looked at me with an odd look on his face as the doorman from the apartment building hurried out and pulled the driver door open. "Mr Cullen, welcome back. How was Miami?"

"Hot," Edward recovered quickly, sliding out the car smoothly and I did the same, "humid. Very Cuban." He gestured to me as I came around the car, "Ivan, meet the lovely Isabella, a good friend of mine. Isabella, meet Ivan."

Ivan tipped his top hat to me, "Isabella, a pleasure."

Not sure what to do, I smiled awkwardly and have him a short wave of my hand, "Hello."

Edward took my about the waist and walked us briskly towards the entrance and into the foyer as Ivan held it open for us, "Ivan has been my doorman for how long?"

"8 years, Mr Cullen. Still seems like yesterday," the old man said amicably, smiling gently.

Edward grinned widely as we entered the foyer and headed for the elevators, "And yet we know each other so well." Edward saluted to him as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside, "See you later, Ivan."

"And to you, Mr Cullen, Isabella," Ivan said, tipping his head again towards us as the doors closed.

"Are you always this warm and fluffy with people who don't really know you?" I asked, as Edward slotted a key into the last button and the elevator shot up the crazy amount of floors there were, "or are you bipolar?"

"What are you talking about? I'm always charming," he said innocently.

"And I'm Morgan Freeman," I said drily.

He rolled his eyes, "just shut up and tell me what to wear."

I sniggered and remained silent as we rose up.

The doors finally opened onto Edward's penthouse at the very top of the building. I was curious as to what was in Edward's apartment; maybe it would be the cliché of a bachelor pad or had pink fluffy stuff on every available surface.

But I saw none of this.

His apartment was bare. White walls, white floors and minimal furniture. As we walked in, with the open planned living room and kitchen ahead of us. The steel appliances in the kitchen looked unused, the black leather couch and TV looking like the only things ever used.

"Live here much?" I asked him, as he opened the all but empty fridge to pull out a beer for himself.

Uncapping the beer, he arched an eyebrow at me, "I have this apartment to sleep in. And maybe to watch TV. What else would I need it for?" He jerked his head in a motion for me to move, "my bedroom's this way."

"What about fucking women? How many women have you brought up here?" I asked, wandering behind him as he walked briskly out of the kitchen around the corner down an equally sparse corridor.

As we entered the equally empty bedroom. The bed was unmade, but the view of the Manhattan skyline shown through the floor to ceiling windows.

Wow.

The lowering sun gilded the skyscrapers and made the Hudson glow silver. People scuttled, gathered and scattered hundreds of feet below. There was only a sheet of plate glass keeping me from the vertical drop to the tarmac. It was thrilling. I pressed my fingertips against the cold glass as Edward answered my question, "you're the first girl I brought up here."

"Why?" I asked, my breath misting the glass.

"Well its not exactly homey," he said, as I heard him open the closet and the rustle of clothes. "And…I never trusted any of them enough to bring them up here."

I turned to him, he stood out from his closet, clothes already dumped on the bed. He looked so…isolated, standing on his own in the endless white, black slacks and a white shirt, the top two buttons undone. That seemed to be his uniform. I had never seen him with anything else. I then asked him, "So why me?"

He didn't say anything, just shrugged and buried himself into the closet again. More suits piled on top of the others already on the bed. "Alright Izzy, what should I wear?" he finally asked.

Poking his bronze head out the closet he grinned crookedly, "make yourself comfortable. Tell me when you get wet."

"You sick bastard," I said bluntly, flopping onto the bed while flicking him the finger, "I feel sorry for whoever ends up being your booty call."

"Just shut up and judge already," he grabbed the suits and held it up for inspection, one after the other.

They all looked the same to me. Maybe that one was a darker grey or that one had a thicker stripe. I eventually told him that and he sighed and said, "I always look good in Prada, I'll go for that one. Now, shirts."

"Not pink," I said instantly.

"Why?" he asked, "women like it when guys wear pink."

"Yes, when they're looking for a long term relationship," I explained, "Pink hints that you're more in touch with your feminine side. This means that you're also more likely to be dependable, long-term guy. If you're looking for a quick fuck, don't wear pink."

"Right, what colour should I wear?"

"Not blue. Overworked, suburban fathers wear blue. White means you are not taking a risk. Purple is massively camp." I thought about it for a minute, "wear a dark colour. It makes you look mysterious and slightly dangerous."

"Dark grey?" he asked, holding the particular shirt up.

I nodded in affirmation, "now you need a good pair of shoes. You can decide on that. And wear a tie. A black one."

As he gathered the things from his closet I lay back, staring up at the ceiling. It was blank, just like everything else in this apartment.

I remembered the hot air balloons and the clouds.

I hadn't thought of those in years.

I sucked air through my teeth and my eyes stung.

The fuck?

"Bella? You ok?"

I jolted back up and stared at Edward, who was crouched by the end of the bed, "nothing, its fine. Just reminiscing."

Which I shouldn't be doing. Really shouldn't be doing.

"About what?" he asked. His hand suddenly reached out and brushed his fingers across my knuckles.

It sent another wave of snapping warmth and it made me blurt out the truth, "I miss my mom."

He seemed to freeze up, his eyes focused on me. "Your mom?"

I smiled tightly, wishing I hadn't said anything, "before she became all fucked up by Phil."

"Phil?"

All these gentle questions. They were fucking with my head.

"Oh fuck off," I said brusquely, getting up off the bed and walked to the window, pressing my forehead against the glass, looking at Manhattan and its unaware people.

**I know absolutely nothing about men****'****s fashion. I kinda winged it there. **

**So a bit of a look at life in the brothel****…**** I enjoyed writing that. I****'****ve always thought that when people are in a shit situation, they tend to use humour. I****'****m not sure if that is right for all situations but I****'****m pretty sure it****'****s all right here. **

**Okily-dokily, thank you for being so patient! Thank you for all your reviews and alerts, they****'****re awesome to see!**

**Until next time!**

**Bones**

**P.S. I****'****ve started this thing of random facts at the end of chapters****…****I don****'****t care that this is mid-story I****'****m going to start it here anyway. **

**Random Fact ****# 1: I had wisdom teeth out today. I feel like a hamster.**


	8. White Lily

**I do not own Twilight. **

**I am so sorry for not updating in…half a year. Honest to god I didn't know that much time had past. I've started university and lets just say I've been caught up in the awesomeness of it for a little while :). **

**Anyway, here's what happened last time on ****_Jewels_****:**

**1. Edward took Bella out on another daytrip, this time to his own apartment**

**2. This was so Bella could give an opinion on Edward's outfit for a charity gala his mother was hosting.**

**3. Edward's apartment is really bare and its obvious he only uses it as somewhere to sleep**

**4. Bella has a flashback and it shakes her up little bit**

**Reading that back, it all sounds like the set up for a bad sitcom…ah well, I hope you enjoy this!**

_White Lily_

"Bella?" he was behind me, I knew so I shrugged off the touch that came to my shoulder, even if it did send sparks along my bloodstream.

To be honest, I really wished these sparks would fuck off and leave me alone.

"Take me back," I said abruptly, turning to look into his unreadable eyes, "I'm tired."

That was not technically a lie. I was always tired but tired for me didn't always mean fatigue.

He frowned, "But Bella, we haven't filled out the full time I was supposed to be with you. They'll be suspicious."

I hated know he was right. But this unbearably bare room was starting to get a little choking. The sparse white walls reminded me of freshly fallen snow, making everything dead and quiet. Licking my lips, I said in a scratchy voice, "can we go for a drive or something? Get some fresh air or something."

He looked confused but nodded, murmuring that he just needed to change. He stripped off, right down to his boxers in front of me, uncaring that I was there. Before he'd gone behind the door of the closet, as if sparing me the sight of his body but now for the first time I saw him near fully naked. I was right in the beginning, he did take care of his body but it was like looking at the statue of David. You can acknowledge that he is beautiful but you're not attracted to him. It was just art. Just stone.

After he changed back into his original clothes we made out of his indistinguishable apartment. The elevator ride was silent, only the ticking of floors flying past. I felt my heart slow with each floor we flashed past, my hand unclenching, only a few centimetres from his relaxed one. It was so quiet between us, the silence seemed to form into this heavy fog that kept our lips sealed, our thoughts private. My thoughts were still a little shocked at the buried memory that had suddenly surfaced only moments before, a fragment of the girl that was. The memory had been as sharp as broken glass, lodging in my head and refusing to budge. I was now remembering the colours of the hot air balloons, the tomato reds, the bottle greens, the blue that reminded me of the inside of mussel shells. I used to imagine where the people in the hot air balloons would be travelling to, clambering to the globe in the sitting room to trace their routes across the planet.

The memory tasted like honey.

The memory tasted like poison.

As we walked back into the foyer, Ivan wished us a good day but it was hardly noticed. The valet brought his car, handing back the keys into those perfect marble hands. I wondered vaguely if childhood memories affected him the same way they affected me, as we settled into the car.

The silence was starting to get sickly and a part of me wanted to scream at it. The gap between us yawned wider, as we had nothing to say to each other. We were so very different. It made no sense how we could ever fit.

He drove randomly through the streets of New York, as if allowing the car to drive for him. People passed on either side, wrapped in their own lives, like bubble wrap around precious objects.

We ended up near Central Park, and as we passed _Barnes and Noble_, I asked him to stop. I needed to get something, I explained, holding my purse tightly in my hands. For a friend, I pleaded. He only nodded, face inscrutable as he drew up on a double yellow line and he even followed me in.

_Barnes and Noble_ was full as I walked in, I heard the chatter of children, the rustle of paper, the louder conversations of adults. I weaved in between the other people going about their business, looking around the shelves.

I wanted to get Emerald a birthday present. Something to make her smile. Because there's nothing wrong with smiling every once in a while. I knew I shouldn't encourage any attachment towards her but I couldn't stop myself. She just needed looking after. Like we all do at that age.

Edward trooped after me, eyeing me in a way that made me think he was trying to analyse me. It was a little irritating to be honest but I ignored it.

I perused the shelves, breathing in the smell of paper and fresh made coffee from the café at the back. Fingering the titles, I enjoyed the feeling of spines that hadn't been cracked with white lines of overuse. Other people browsed with me, picking out books with quiet content looks on their faces as they scanned the backs of books.

I felt so normal next to them. To them, I was just another customer. Maybe I was a secretary or an estate agent. Maybe I had an apartment in the Bronx with a boyfriend who farts in bed and whom I make lasagne for while my cat Felix sat on the windowsill of our kitchen, licking his white sock paws.

They didn't know that I was the best piece of ass in Manhattan, that I sucked the cocks of attorneys and mobsters because an Italian madam of an exclusive brothel told me to.

Nope, to them I was dull. Boring.

Weird thought.

I tried to make the experience last. Under Edward's watchful eyes, I picked up books and read the blurb on the back, flicked through pages, reading random parts before putting them back. I wandered to the children's section and watched surreptitiously as mothers and fathers sat with their children to help them pick out the next book for bedtime. I came close to the café and watched how friends met up after shopping for books, smiling with easy grins at each other.

I had to pick something though. I reluctantly chose the three books I wanted to give to Emerald before dawdling to the front to pay, getting wrapping paper and a card along the way. Edward followed in quick succession, my shadow as I brought out my purse.

"Let me," he tried to insist, bringing out his wallet.

One look from me had him slipping his wallet right back where it came from.

Like _La Petit Reine_ this was my experience, not his.

Paying for the books were like saying a quiet 'fuck you' in the face of…well…everything. I could still get books, like any normal human being. That, at least, couldn't be taken away from me.

The books were satisfyingly heavy to carry. I even swung the bag a little bit, to feel the weight of words in my hands. I headed for the car, expecting to be driven around in silence some more, but he took my hand and murmured, "Do you want to feed the ducks in Central Park?"

I blinked, startled by the request. But then I thought; I actually really wanted to feed the ducks. And for some reason, so did he. Smiling for the first time, I nodded, "please, that would be nice."

His grin was sudden and it split his face like fireworks on 4th of July. We bought duck feed from a vendor inside Central Park, and dawdled to the pond. Clusters of flowers were starting to bloom on the banks and people were about us, some with dogs, some in couples, some were jogging. We stood at the very edge of the pond, sharing the bag between us. We looked quite a pair, him in the designer suit and me in a printed silk shirtdress, one of the many 'presents' that Edward had made me wear.

The ducks flocked, orange bills snapping frantically as we sprinkled feed into the blackish green waters.

I wondered what ducks thought about. What they worried about. Duck feed maybe, migration patterns, how to make skeins in the sky, ponds to swim in…

I really want to be a duck.

Listening to the sounds of the park, the tense rippling silence seemed to ease a little. Edward even crouched close to the waterline, I caught the glint off his family ring as his hand hovered over the desperate ducks, "haven't done this since I was a kid and living in Chicago."

I snorted, watching how the water churned between the frantic ducks, standing as close to the edge as I could, "who does nowadays? Unless you're five."

"My mom always used to take us," he said, "the au pair would always have a day off on Sunday, so my mom always made a big thing of hanging out with us on that day. Duck feeding was the thing for her."

He retracted his hand a little as one of the ducks made a daring attempt to snatch the feed from his hand, "she came from Belfast. My mom. From a wealthy family but it was dangerous to be Catholic back then in that city. Marrying my dad was the safe way out. She always said feeding ducks felt like the only safe thing you could do back when she was young."

His lips quirked bitterly and he let his fingers loosen and the duck feed trickled out of his fingers and into the water to the scrambling ducks.

I watched him, pausing in scattering the food. He stared blankly off into the distance; seemingly unaware of where he was and whom he was with. Hands were slack, elbows resting on his bent knees.

The story was small, but it felt like a gift. A small facet of what Edward Cullen was. Sometimes, you had to treasure stuff like that.

I crouched down next to him and touched his hand. He glanced at me as I brought his hand palm up and trickled more duck feed into his hand. "Lets make it last longer then," I murmured, closing his fingers over the last of the food.

Just as I was about to pull away, he reached for my hand and grabbed it. I stared down, at where our hands were joined, his holding mine rather tightly. Fingers parted slightly, veins vivid, bones ghosting under his skin. His knuckles were a little scratched, a little bruised, as if he had been in a fight recently. Probably had been. His scratches were red and small, as if birds had clawed at his skin.

He gave my hand, my comparatively small and bony hand a tight squeeze. I didn't look at his face, because I knew he was staring at mine. One look and I'd be done for.

When he let me go, I stood up and looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed. Edward also stood up and did not look at me anymore.

_2 days later…_

I woke up to the sounds of crying.

This isn't really that abnormal.

Emerald normally cried when she woke up.

I turned over and watched from my bed as her little form shook with hard sobs, head buried in her pillow, a dark cloud of hair only indicating where it was. Her sobs were a little more vigorous this morning. Probably because of the date.

I stretched, popping my joints, the cracks echoing around my skeleton. I remembered that I hadn't slept a wink on the night before my first. I kept on imagining the scenario in my head, over and over, imagining the man who would clamber over me and force entry. I'd got myself in a such a state that the next morning old Emerald had a hard time keeping me from chaining myself to the bed.

I finally got up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed onto the cold concrete floor. I looked under the gap in my bed and pulled the books wrapped in wrapping paper that had 'Happy Birthday' stamped in different fonts and colours.

I walked quietly to Emerald's bed and sat down on her bed, springs squeaking. She didn't seem to notice, and what little I could see of her face was red and swollen.

"Emerald?" I asked quietly, not touching her. She wouldn't want anyone to touch her right now.

No answer.

More sobs.

"Emerald?"

No answer.

"Bree?" her name was simple to say, sweet in my mouth. I've always wanted to say it secretly, ever since she said it to me. It felt like a rebellion, like when I took joy in saying swearwords all those years ago.

Names are precious. More precious than any jewel in the world.

The reaction was instant.

Her face turned to look at me, eyes large in her head, lips parted in swollen shock. She palmed her face, wiping the wetness away, "You said my name." Her voice was cracking and hoarse but she'd stopped crying at least.

I grinned, brushing her hair out of her eyes, "yep, I said your name."

I brought the present out from behind me and murmured, "Happy Birthday, squirt."

The nickname isn't as clean as it sounds.

Girl didn't know what vaginal ejaculation was.

Priceless.

She blushed, sniffling a little. "How was I supposed to know women could ejaculate," she muttered, "and that is what Amber is known for in Manhattan."

Her face screwed up in disgust and I laughed, "honey you're gonna have to get used to knowing what goes in and out of other people's vaginas. Kinda comes with the territory."

She sat up, staring down at the parcels in her lap, "you didn't have to get me anything."

"Yeah, I didn't have to but I felt like it, so shut up and open it, squirt," I leaned back against the concrete wall, watching as her fingers searched for the seams in my wrapping, tearing the paper apart.

There were three books.

One was _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Bronte.

One was _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ by Stephen Chbosky.

One was _Nightfall_ by Stephanie Mayer.

She stared down at the books as I explained quietly, "Every girl has to read _Jane Eyre_. It is practically national law. _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ I enjoyed when I was your age and I think you'll enjoy it too. And _Nightfall_ is apparently what all the cool kids are reading. Its about British vampires and damsels in distress and stuff."

I watched her face as she looked down at the books on her lap and she murmured a quiet 'thank you'.

I added in an even softer voice, "these are your escape. Use them."

She seemed to tense up but then her arms flung around my shoulders and she gave me a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so scared," she whispered, as something warm and wet soaked into the shirt of my pyjamas, "what if it hurts? What if I screw up with the lube? What if he doesn't like it a complains to Padrona? What if-"

I pushed her away, grabbed her face and made her look me in the eye, "There are a ton of 'what if's in this job." I brushed her hair out of her eyes, "I used to think about them a lot too. It's perfectly natural. But there's no point in torturing yourself. The 'what if's are nothing now. You don't have the luxury of wondering about them. So stop." I smoothed my hands down her shoulders and arms, feeling how cold she was, "and anyway, you won't screw up. Most men are pretty unobservant anyway and the guy will be drunk on the high of winning you. And the actual sex… I'm not gonna lie, its not going to be pleasant. He won't care whether you are enjoying it or not and frankly it can feel like its going to last forever." I took her hands, smoothing my fingers over her flesh. "I think of sunset on the ocean and uh…my dad's garden shed and takeaway pizza and books I have to read. You take yourself away from situation. As far as you're concerned, its happening to someone else."

Her fingers were starting to warm and she nodded, her brown watery eyes starting to clear, "what would I do without you?"

I said nothing, pursed my lips, realising I'd gone too far. I gave her hand a final squeeze and got up to get dressed.

But the rogue thought came unbidden, as it was wont to do nowadays.

Was it so wrong to want human connection?

/*\\\

That night, there was no room for regrets.

The Floor was decked out for one of the most exclusive nights it hosted. Certain people had been selected to come and only those people. No gatecrashers, this was for New York's richest and sleaziest only. Fewer girls were working the poles tonight, so as not to detract from the main attraction: Emerald. Instead, we were waitressing, wearing bikinis that corresponded to what gemstone we were.

Emerald was supposed to be the showstopper here. She'd been tutored by Padrona personally on the dance she was going to do, on what she was going to say when she was finally won, what she was going to do when she was alone with the guy. Padrona was still trying to play Emerald off as a virgin to up her price.

Did you know that the Japanese make fake hymen to insert into your vagina before intercourse? It even oozes blood when it's broken.

Well now you do.

I'd helped do her make up, Topaz chatting away over me as she threaded green stones into Emerald's hair. We were with strict instructions to make her look innocent and seductive at the same time. It would work out that Emerald would be introduced, she will do her dance to model her assets, and then the bidding would start.

I'd heard Padrona gloat that Emerald was going to bring in thousands, maybe millions to the house of _Cipro_.

Emerald was shaking so much I nearly smeared mascara all around her eyes and not on her actual eyelashes.

She wasn't crying, she just stared fixedly at one spot on the wall in the Rec Room.

Topaz, in a dark ochre bikini was whittering about hair extensions.

I said nothing, the cerulean sequins of my bikini pinching into my flesh.

The others around us were in various states of undress, some were doing make up, others were still completely naked, as even though we each had a different coloured bikini, we all had to have the same general look. We had no shame either. We'd all seen each other naked. We'd all had threesomes with each other at least once.

You end up realising that flesh is flesh. We are all made the same way in the end.

"How are you feeling?" Jade was next to us, carefully curling her hair with curling tongs and a mirror perched precariously on the kitchen island, her eyes fixed on Emerald's goosepimply form.

Emerald glanced up, broken out of staring at the microwave, licking her lips nervously, "you know those trashy period romances by Mills and Boon? I feel like those girls in them who are getting married and they're getting ready for the wedding night."

Topaz cocked her head onto one side, frowning a little, "never thought of it like that, but I guess it fits."

I said nothing, gently rubbing rouge into Emerald's cheeks.

But she was correct.

It was like a medieval wedding night.

Funny how things change. And yet stay the same.

After she'd been prepped, Emerald was surprised by Topaz with a birthday cupcake. She blew out the lone candle, but looked to nauseated to eat it. Most the girls otherwise ignored Emerald's birthday, more concerned with the fact that they were being made to work when they really didn't need to.

One of Padrona's lackeys came through a few minutes later, ordering everyone apart from Emerald to get out onto the Floor; guests were about to be let in. Emerald was glued to her chair frozen, as the rest of us trooped out. My hand brushed her shoulder briefly, one last touch to her that meant her well. Then I followed everyone else.

/*\\\

When you go onto the Floor from the Boudoir side, you have the bar to your left, the stage and poles to your right and circular booths around low drinks tables in between. The stage itself was circular, but it had a catwalk platform that jutted out in the middle in amongst the booths. On the other side of this platform was the VIP area only reserved for special guests.

It was all full now, men in wealthy business suits and even a few women decked out in beautiful dresses with tasteful jewellery. All guests would have been thoroughly briefed on what they could and could not say outside these walls. They would have been given their own personal nickname. They were told what would happen to them if they broke the rules.

Nothing personal. Just business.

The Jewels began to weave in and out these important people, taking orders for drinks and bringing these drinks to them. This isn't the first time we'd done something like this and it wasn't going to be the last.

Make no mistake, we were still meat.

Men still fondled my ass and tits whenever they could.

The music was tasteful but had a dark beat to it as people made conversation. The Boss and his contemporaries were seated in their VIP area, eying the place with cold attention.

As I served his limoncello, he fixed me with a glare and said, "Lion enjoyed his night with you I hear."

I froze, wondering whom he was talking about. Then realised that 'Lion' was Edward's nickname here. I relaxed and said smoothly, "he seemed very pleased at the end of the night, yes."

He took a sip of his sweet drink and smiled a smile that seemed to gleam unnaturally in the light, "so much so that he visits you often now."

I nodded mutely, waiting for his verdict.

His smile remained, but his eyes became very hard, "do not fowl it up, _mia_ _topina_."

Lips were dry but I nodded again not breaking eye contact with him and only drew away when he dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

In a way it was comforting. I was an important chess piece at the moment. Maybe I could be given a more important role if I do it right. Just that one little catch.

5 minutes later and a familiar face got my attention with a particularly distinct ass slap. "The lovely, gorgeous, scrumptious Sapphire, you're still here! How's my little love? Miss me? Remember the first time we met?"

Emperor, an oil tycoon worth millions with a Southern accent, hair as white and as thick as freshly fallen snow, his artificially beautiful face giving a winning smile with a certain defiance to not age. He was always impeccably turned out, always had a Pretty Young Thing on his arm that didn't have to brain cells to rub together and always, as he'd say in his post-coital glow, 'wouldn't know exciting sex if it bit her in her implanted ass and fucked her collagen trout pout.'

Emperor was one for excitement. He liked his sex new and fresh. He liked to be young. He wasn't cruel. And he took my virginity.

I remembered how he sweated off his fake tan, painting my body orange. I remember the smell of his cologne, too strong. But he told me jokes after; genuine ones that made me laugh, and told me I'd been brave.

So I sort of hated him and liked him at the same time.

Hard line to walk I know.

Putting on a winning smile, I cocked my hips and said in a voice that was partly genuine warmth and partly put on, "Emperor, I've missed you everyday. Where have you been?"

His arm was wrapped around the waist of what must have been a Russian supermodel, who was giving me a glare that would have made Siberia look tropical, "this Pretty Young Thing has been keeping me in Paris, haven't you sweetie?"

Pretty Young Thing could barely get a word in edgeways as Emperor continued on, "you were always my favourite Sapphire. Out of all my Pretty Young Things, you hold my heart. Trembling Pretty Young Thing you were when I met you and look at you now." He winked slow and it made my skin crawl but I was still sort of giggling at his antics, "maybe I'll have some time for you later, my little love."

I smiled in mock sadness, "As much as it would make my night, I think you should wait for Emerald. She's a beauty."

I was doing Emerald a favour.

Like I said, Emperor was a pig but he wasn't cruel.

Emperor raised an eyebrow, "high praise from a girl like you. She really something?"

"Let's say I've taken her under my wing," I said, smiling like the perfect saleswoman, "she knows all the tricks but is still a virgin, still pure. A dark beauty, any man would be lucky to have her."

I was forcibly turning a client away, losing personal revenue. This goes against everything you're supposed to do to get yourself out. But Emerald needed this more than me.

Emperor pondered for a moment, "I'll consider it. If she's as wonderful as you say she is." He picked up his whiskey glass and handed it to me, "little love, get me another scotch and maybe I'll follow your advice."

I smiled and nodded, taking it from him. Just as I turned around, he smacked my ass again, shouting at the top of his voice, "still got the tightest ass in Manhattan though!"

Just as I returned with his drink, the lights suddenly dimmed. A spotlight focused on Padrona who was standing on the stage. Her red dress fell to mid calf and her face and hair were perfectly made up. Her smile was wide and inviting, voice warm from the red wine she normally drank and the expensive French cigarettes that she smoked, "Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, here at _Cipro_ we take great pride in our Jewels and how they please the people who walk through our doors. Our girls will be your fantasy, yours to enjoy. We seek perfection, beauty and pleasure. That is why it is always a momentous occasion when we have a new girl to add to our handpicked group of girls. For one of you lucky bidders, she will be yours for this night, her debut night, as pure as the fallen snow. But only for the man who wins her. Who is champion of this auction." Padrona's hands clasped in prayer as the music began to pick up pace, "my dear colleagues, my faithful clients, I give you the young, fresh beauty that is Emerald!"

Claps all around as Padrona moved off stage and Emerald shifted on, her body glittering in the overhead lights. The bass was low in the music and slow, allowing her to move with sensuous moves designed to entice. Only someone who'd watched the routine several times over, would see the tremor in her hands. The beads in her hair glimmered, but her eyes showed how terrified she was. All these men, staring at her as she dances, imagining what they could do to her.

I remembered that feeling, the uncertainty of who'd I be with, who would finally take my last scrap of dignity away. It was all I could do to face the music and dance to it.

So when Emerald's eyes met mine I gave her a smile and mouthed 'well done' as if I was a mother at my daughter's nativity play.

Her lips twitched and she swung away from me continuing in her dance. But she was shaking less and her eyes looked less like a rabbit's in front of a car.

As the dance drew to a close, the audience applauded and Emperor said to me, "you were right, she is exquisite." His smile was large and I could see the dreams of what to do with her, building in his eyes.

I nodded, giving him a quick smile, "I'm glad you approve." Eyeing Pretty Young Thing I said, "hope Pretty Young Thing can keep up. We Jewels are hard to compete with."

Pretty Young Thing practically hissed at me and Emperor laughed, "that's my girl!" as I sashayed away.

I didn't watch the bidding though, didn't listen to it. I didn't want to know how much Emerald's vagina is worth. I knew it was over when there was a final gasp as some enormous figure was announced and applause as the price was met. I watched as the lucky man traipsed to the front to claim his prize.

Relief filled my gut as Emperor kissed Emerald's knuckles and said in front of the whole crowd, "tonight I possess beauty."

Another round of applause as Emerald stood like a wooden board. Emperor and Emerald were led off by Padrona to their room and that was when business continued as usual. Within minutes, I had a brutish man pinning me against the bar.

"I may have lost her to the scummy old bastard," the Alpha Pig snarled, palming my breast and grabbing my ass, "but I won't lose you will I?"

A normal girl will push him off. Tell him to stick it where the sun shines.

But I'm a prostitute. And this is what I do.

I palm his growing erection, clasp his earlobe in my teeth and then tell him in a sweet voice, "For a price baby, I'm all yours."

He took my mouth in a fierce clash, beer all I could taste in mouth. He was sweating, he was holding me too tightly, but this was normal. Standard. Acceptable assault.

His lips met my neck and as he left a wet trail across my neck I saw a pair of green eyes over from across the Floor.

Edward's eyes.

**Uh oh, this is going to be messy…**

**I liked writing this, showing a softer side to Bella and maybe to Edward. Whether it's a good thing in the grand scheme of this, we'll just have to wait and see.**

**The book _Nightfall _ that Bella got for Bree is a parody of _Twilight._ Thought it would be a bit weird otherwise. **

**And I've looked it up. You can get insertable hymen from Japan. **

**It's probably not even the weirdest thing you can get in the wonderful world of sex toys. **

**But still…yuk. **

**Till next time, **

**Bones x**

**Random Fact # 2: Another tooth related fact: my left front tooth is only half there. My sister, when I was 7 and she was 4, accidentally smacked a video tape (remembered those? Heavy bloody things) into my mouth, chipping a large part of my tooth off. All I remember is blinding pain and the fact that the video tape was ****_Chicken Run_****. **


	9. Bruises

**Hhhhheeeeyyyy…..uhmmm….sorry for taking so long? I said I wouldn't do this again but uhm…turns out I'm shit for making promises. **

**I'll be honest: I've been lazy. Writing is a bit hard at the moment: lots of writer's blocks and I pretend that I don't have the energy to work through it, even though I do. But recently I've remembered how much it makes me happy so, I've tried to get back to it more. **

**So…I'm really sorry this took longer than it should have. Will try better in future! **

**Aaaaannyway, here is what happened last time on ****_Jewels_****:**

**1. Bella and Edward finish their meeting in his flat and head back out again. Bella goes to a book shop and pretends to be normal while shopping for books for Emerald's b-day present.**

**2. They go feed the ducks after and have a bonding moment.**

**3. The Emerald's deflowering party arrives. Bella gives her a pep talk before they spruce her up for the big moment. **

**4. At the party, an oil tycoon called Emperor is introduced. He's creepy and nice all at the same time. Bella pushed Emerald onto him, since he was the one who took Bella's V-card, so she knows he'll be nice about it.**

**5. Bella herself picks up an Alpha Pig and catches Edward watching her. **

**So, hope that sums it up! **

_Bruises_

Edward didn't react.

His face muscles didn't even twitch.

He just stood at the bar, scotch in hand, staring at me as if I was part of a fascinating animal documentary. Slightly detached, but slightly disgusted at the same time. It was weird. I didn't know how to feel about Edward watching me work.

I wouldn't say I was embarrassed. My capacity to feel shame had dwindled over the past few years. But I vaguely recognised the oily feeling in the pit of my stomach as Alpha Pig bit into the side of my neck and dragged the wet muscle of his tongue along my collarbone. His erection pressed to my navel, insistently rubbing against me. His pinching hands squeezed my waist and brought me back to the situation at hand.

He needed to pay first before he got the goods first. I wielded this minuscule power I had over him in that moment. "Baby, money first before you fuck me," I murmured in his ear, "you know the rules of _Cipro_."

"Fuck the rules," he growled, hand on breast, the other forcing its way down my bikini bottom to my pussy.

I didn't make a scene. Instead, I dug my nails slightly into the guys arm and said in a low voice, "Don't make this difficult for me, baby. You know the rules."

My eyes flickered to one of the many suited guys that lined the room, readying to give one of them the signal. When a client is losing control and is unwilling to pay, we stick our thumb, forefinger and index finger out and shake it twice. That's when the suits muscle in and make them pay up. It was meant to be a last resort. If you need the help, its assumed that you hadn't explained the rules properly and you'd be punished along with the punter. I didn't much relish the thought of not eating for a week so I tried to pull myself away.

I realised too late that this was the wrong thing to do.

"The fuck you doing, whore?"

The roots of my hair seared as a fistful was grabbed and yanked upon. I was made to look into blurry blue eyes with bloody rims, "you're mine cunt. Don't you dare fucking pull away from me. I own you."

My neck muscles quivered and burned as they were pulled into an unnatural position. An idle thought crossed my mind that my bruises will be hand-shaped tomorrow as his other hand circled my arm, the skin pulling and pinching as his fingers dented my flesh.

"Baby, don't make a scene," I croaked, all the while readying my hand to sign to the Suits, "they don't like it when you make a scene."

He snorted, "excuse after fucking excuse, you're all the same."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

The hands didn't let go of my body but the mouth that had been showering me in spittle swivelled with the face it was attached to, eyes bugging out slightly. Edward had moved silently so that he stood behind Alpha Pig's broad back. He grinned, as if he had just discovered a scandalous secret, eyebrows quirked with mischievous glee.

Alpha Pig sneered, one hand loosening off my hair but the other tightening in compensation, "the fuck are you?"

Edward had obviously been sprayed because he wiped his face delicately with a cocktail napkin from nearby before tossing it away. "You've chosen well. Sapphire here is delightful. Nice and tight, aren't you sweetie?"

I smile, playing along, while wondering what the hell did he think he was doing, "I do try to please, Lion."

Alpha Pig finally let go of me, his bloodshot eyes darting between us, "you fucking know each other?"

Edward grinned again, "yes, we're very close aren't we, 'Phire? She's worth every cent you spend on her. Very professional too, I believe she may be trying to tell you about how to pay her. I hear the bouncers here are quite vicious if you don't pay up front, but of course you know that already since you were invited to this party, hmm?"

Relief burned through me as Alpha Pig's eyes shifted uneasily around the room, as if only aware of the imposing black figures of Padrona's handpicked force of grunts. All brawn and no brain, they're known for making people hurt in the old fashioned way: kicks and punches that break bones, destroy facial structures, and make you spit and piss blood.

Alpha Pig wouldn't last two seconds under the Suits undivided attention.

He smoothed back his hair, muttering, "shit-fuck" in one breath before grabbing me again and dragging me to the negotiations table, without saying another word to Edward. I turn my head to catch Edward's gaze, mouthing a 'thank you' to him. He only arched his eyebrows before turning from me and sauntering off into the crowd.

I now realised I was even more indebted to him. The more I saw him, the more tangled it got. Groaning under my breath, Alpha Pig snarled into my ear, "it was your fault I forgot, cunt. I promise you'll hurt before I finish with you."

I turned to him, grinning my own coy smile, pushing thoughts of Edward and my debts to him away, "bring it, baby. I'm just tits and ass and cunt waiting to be fucked. Punish me for being such a bad girl."

Normal women don't talk like this. They don't egg their assaulter on. But in the end; I am just tits and ass and cunt. A national resource really.

I should just stick to what I know.

Alpha Pig thumbed out his money for me, while the suit with the cigarette tipping precariously between his lips listed my services in a bored tone: hand job ($60), blow job ($70, $75 if Alpha Pig wants me to swallow) vaginal sex ($100), anal sex ($150) and $20 added for every hour he wants to spend with me.

Alpha Pig pays for a full night plus all the trimmings. I lead him off afterwards, cooing stupid shit into his ear while mentally preparing myself for the physical onslaught that was to happen to my body. He's going to be rough with me. Its possible he has mommy issues (you learn that all guys really just want to punish their moms when they come here. That's Freudian shit, right there) or he's just a misogynistic shithead. Both are really one and the same.

/***\\\

God, I'm in pain.

As Alpha Pig sleeps, snoring and satiated, I wince my way out of the big blue bed. My body pulses with aches, every time my heart beats, the pain swells and bursts. I limp to the door, hissing as I pull the robe on, the silk hardly felt against the bruises that are forming all over.

He was rougher than I anticipated.

I silently leave, knowing that the suits will kick him out in the morning. For now, I just want a shower, some Advil and sleep.

I slip past the security door, heading for the shower room to take a proper look at the damage.

The shower room is basic. Cubbyholes hold our towels and shampoo, showerheads are bolted into the tiled walls with no cubicles to separate them. I strip the robe off and hobble to my cubbyhole, grabbing some soap and shampoo. Setting them down by one of the showerheads, I pump the button so that hot water hits my head and runs over my body.

I let out a breath. Closing my eyes, the pain seemed to lessen slightly. My lip stung, it must have split. Copper was in my mouth, hot and bitter. I licked my lips and tasted more salt.

I was surprised to find I was crying. Tears mixed with the hot water and washed my face. I was shaking as well.

In an effort to keep control, I grabbed shampoo and scrubbed my hair with it. Foam grew in soft clumps around my fingers and I concentrated around how that felt.

A rogue thought swirled around my brain: _why do I let them do this to me?_

I try to not think about it. I don't want it to take root. But it grows, fills my head like smoke.

I rinse the shampoo off and reach for the soap, the tears not stopping. My breath squeaks and whistles in my chest as I gulp for air. I scrub my body down, the sobs beginning to gather and grow in my chest. The question repeated over and over: _why do I let them do this to me? Why do I let them do this to me? Why do I let them do this to me?_

I slammed my fist against the tiles, even as my arm ricocheted with pain.

_Why do I let them do this to me?_

/***\\\

Dried and dressed after my shower, I collected a couple of Advil from the security guards, as we weren't allowed to have any of our own. They smirked knowingly and I ignored them best I could. I knocked the pills back in front of them and trudged out of the security room. They were the only men on duty: Padrona was long gone. When I got back into my room, Emerald was sitting on her bed, carefully unthreading the beads out of her hair.

She took one look at me and gasped.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I hadn't looked in a mirror. But from the way Emerald's face was pale and worried looking, I was guessing it wasn't good.

I attempted a smile but it was more of a grimace. "Met a lovely man tonight. Really liked to smack my tits about when fucking me. Lost his number though," I quipped though my smile quickly slipped off my face.

I ripped the covers back from my bed, crawling between the scratchy sheets.

"Are you ok?"

That damaged part of me became furiously jealous when those three words were said. Emerald should have gotten Alpha Pig. She should understand what this life is. She got the easy option, she hadn't suffered yet. I've been in this too long to still get the assholes. She needs to be broken.

To stop the poisonous feelings from streaming out of my mouth, I grunted, fluttering my eyes closed.

Before I feigned sleep however, I said in a low voice, "I'm glad you got Emperor. He's a nice sleaze."

I rolled over, pain stabbing along my body as I moved.

I didn't want to talk anymore.

/***\\\

A week later, _Fuck the Pain Away _by Peaches was blasting the speakers and some guy on his last night of freedom was fighting to paw my ass as I gave him a lap dance. Internally I was bored but I just kept smiling like I only ever thought about my manicure and getting laid.

The bruises, bluish and black, were carefully covered up with industrial concealer. Padrona had checked me over the next day, tsked, and muttered, "my, my what mucky pups my customers are." She kissed my forehead, in the way a mother would, her perfume cloying and strong and murmured, "Your pussy still works though, hmm _mia cara_?"

Her hand grasped my crotch and I suppressed my urge to recoil. I nodded mutely, fists clenched by my side.

"_Molto bene,_" she whispered with a patronising hiss, "good girl, _mia cara_."

"You like this baby?" I murmured, pulling my hands up through my hair, making it cascade through my fingers. The groom and his expensive party of wasted team members whistled. They know not to touch though. They only paid for a dance. They're rich, but they're not that rich.

As the song drew to a close, I suddenly saw Edward at the bar again, and echo of what had happened the week before. He caught my gaze and cocked his head in a motion that was telling me to go talk to him.

I resisted flipping the bird to him.

If he wanted to talk about last week, he would have a better chance of finding fucking pixie dust.

I span away from the group, retrieving a new bikini top from backstage before sauntering my way to the bar. Edward's suit seemed a little rumpled, dust powdered the bottoms of his suit pants. There were spots of something on his shirt, but it was too dark to tell what it was.

Every time I saw him in here, I saw him with a glass of scotch. It was all he ever seemed to drink. As soon as I was next to him, he turned to Pavel, the bartender, and said, "vodka cranberry for my friend here."

I pursed my lips as Pavel mixed the drink, as the Jewels were only allowed alcohol if a punter bought it for us. I didn't look at Edward, for I knew that a new emotion would arise at the sight of him.

Humiliation.

I owed him more now. It also showed that I cared a little bit of what he thought.

Fuck.

As soon as Pavel moved away and said lowly, "you bought me a fucking sorority girl's drink? Jesus you are unimaginative."

Insulting him seemed to even the odds.

"Didn't think you were picky," he murmured and out of the corner of my eye he took a massive gulp of his drink and then he wrapped his arm around my middle. His lips were millimetres from my ears, his breath hotly damp against my skin, "you hide the bruises well. You still limp a little though."

I turned my head, so that my eyes locked against his eyes. They seemed a little red-rimmed and there was scruff on his cheeks and neck. I smiled a shit-eating grin, as if I had enjoyed what he just said, and hissed through clenched teeth, "you're so full of shit."

His face didn't flicker, but there was a twitch to his lips that was gone before I could catch it, "how badly did he beat you?"

I giggled, shifting a little because the sharp edge of the bar was digging into a particularly sore bruise, "what I do with my other clients is confidential. Get off your righteous saviour pole. It makes you unattractive."

I then took a sip of my drink, my teeth nibbling the straw, "what are you doing here if not to pretend to give a shit about what I do with other clients?"

"What if one of them kills you?" he hissed, smiling beatifically at me.

"That's happened before," I say, leaning forward so my lips brushed his ear, "there's a panic button. We're expensive, us whores, Padrona can't afford losing us every week. I'm safe to a point."

As I'm about to pull back, I smell iron, mixed with musky cologne. I flicker to the spots on his shirt, dark blackish brown. Congealed blood. I retract from him and blink slowly, "don't worry you're pretty little head about it. I'm a big girl." My eyes then latched onto the bloodstain, "are you tense because you had to do a little killing tonight?"

He stiffened, and anger crackled across his gaze, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

I shook my head, "You're not the only one who can deduce shit you know. You did a crap job on the clean up. There's the victim's blood on your shirt."

He pulled at the collar of his shirt, as if trying to hide the stain. He gave me a vicious look, and it startled me. He didn't like it when I found out something insidious about him. Truly insidious. "So?" the word was spat out. I quirked an eyebrow at him as his arm tightened around me.

"I've watched plenty of deaths, plenty of tortures, I'm not shocked." That was true. I wasn't shocked. I hardly expected that Edward's job required him to push paperwork. "Why are you so mad?"

He tapped the bar top, drumming his fingers loudly. He was furious. He was silent for the first time I had ever asked him a question.

I narrowed my eyes, as I realised I had truly hit a nerve. I gave an incredulous laugh, removed the straw from my drink and knocked it back, before saying in a throaty voice, "I don't fucking believe it. You don't like that I figured something out about you? That I now know that you really hate gunning people down but you do it anyway 'cause, I don't know, your brothers tell you to or you really just wanna impress your dad—" a muscle twitched in his jaw "oh there it is!" I gloated, that damaged part of me so very happy that I had him for once. That I was in control. "Daddy doesn't think you're good enough does he?"

"Shut up, whore," he whispered hoarsely, his drink shaking hard in his grasp. From the outside, it still looked like we were having an intimate conversation, but the way Edward was looking at me was on the opposite side of the spectrum from intimate.

"Oh, now you're calling me by what I am? Just cause I finally understand something about you? That I know that you really hate your job," I laughed, but it was sarcastic, jarring, "fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking cryptic comments and your fucking promises for salvation. Don't you dare fucking use me as a way to feel better about yourself. You may think you're better than me. But you know what, baby? You're no better than good old Alpha Pig last week. At least he's fucking honest about what he's here for. The betterment of his ego and getting his dick wet."

Edward suddenly yanked me to his body, grabbed my hair and pulled it back so that my neck was pulled into an unnatural position so that I looked into his eyes. His glare was as hard as the stone I was named after in this place, jaw so tightly wound shut, I wondered if his teeth were cracking.

"Don't you fucking dare, Bella," he snarled, and I felt cold steel press to my navel, "don't you fucking dare."

I cackled, sounding more insane with each iota of power that Edward was handing over to me, "The great Edward Cullen: still a man!"

I then grabbed his gun hand, digging it deeper into my soft stomach, "prove me wrong then. Shoot me. Padrona really won't give a shit. There will be a new girl the next time you visit, maybe you could head-fuck her too. Just fucking shoot me."

His entire frame shook. Part of me knew he wouldn't do it. But a part of me wanted him to do it. So badly. To not have to fear it anymore, to not have to fear about how painful it might be. Death by gunshot is merciful, compared to what happened to old Emerald. I wanted him to do it.

_Please do it_.

But he only spat, "go fuck yourself" into my face before tearing away, smashing his glass onto the floor.

As his ass whipped around the door, the adrenaline that had been thumping through my blood, playing with my heart. I giggle and when Padrona sweeps over, I say dreamily, "Lion had to be somewhere. He was late."

I kept my shaking hands behind me, as she incredibly accepted my story. I wondered over to where two famous actors chattered at the bar, seemingly without company.

"Well hey fellas, you seem kinda lonely over here. What can I do for you?"

They check out my boobs and butt, and seem to like what they see. I flirt outrageously with them for a while before finally getting the both of them in the Blue room for a threesome.

Such is my life.

**That was really, really difficult to write. I'd have to stop every once in a while to stop myself getting too despondent. **

**So, Bella finally got underneath his skin. The encounter with Alpha Pig definitely triggered that. Yeah, rough stuff. What do you all think of Edward now? Saviour or what? Love to hear from you!**

**Lots of love**

**Bones**

**Random Fact # 3: I work at an Italian café, which is quite famous in Edinburgh. It really does nothing for my diet (they serve greasy doughnuts and chicken wrapped in bacon. A girl can only handle so much), the customers are a little irritating at times (I once got an entire lecture on how to specifically make a macchiato for a full 5 minutes) and the pay sucks. At least I have nice colleagues though!**


	10. Leaving Fanfiction

Dear Readers,

Really sorry to break this to you, but I'm quitting fanfiction. As you guys well know, I haven't been writing a lot for this account and my other account on TWCS. Here's why:

When I first came onto this site, I was 15, pretty lonely, not hugely self-confident and just looking for a place to post my early writings without being judged too harshly. Looking back, its only now that I realise how unhappy I was. Fanfiction and books were a sort of escape from school. Since then, I've had a huge amount of fun, met a lot of wonderful people, grown in confidence in my writing and realised my own potential.

I'm now 20; I've left school, started university and thinking about what I want to do with my life. I'm not the same girl who posted my first tentative story and waited anxiously for the reviews. I am so happy and confident now. I have friends that I love and I'm learning about things I'm actually interested in. This is the best point of my life so far. The more I've grown in happiness, the less I need to escape. I hope you all understand.

This doesn't mean I want to stop writing. That is still a huge part of me. I want to focus more on my original stories and characters. I have a head full of ideas and I have dreams of being published. So watch out! You might pick up a novel of mine one day.

The bottom line is: I've grown out of fanfiction. It's not as big a part of my life as it used to be and I don't think I can pretend to myself anymore. It's not fair on you guys, my readers. You all deserve an author that's still invested in her stories and updating regularly.

I'll be leaving my account up and I'm putting all of my stories up for adoption. If you're interested or know of someone else who might be interested, message me (never done this before, so not sure how I'm gonna continue after that).

Finally, thank you all so much. I can't express how much this site has been a comfort to me, especially through the days when I didn't think that much of myself. Fanfiction was more than just a pass time for me; it was a way of experimenting with my writing style and ideas. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive response. You guys were awesome and I thank you so much for being patient with me through the shitty update timing, the Lolclan incident and my moments of crazy insecurity.

This place was a huge part of my life as a teenager and I'll always look back with fondness.

I wish you all a happy life and all the best in what you intend to do.

Lots of love,

Emily Bones


End file.
